


Quantum Leap

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, F/M, Movie: Fight The Future, Parallel Universes, Time Travel, X-file
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-25 19:19:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 26,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4973098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something that could have happened on the spaceship in Fight the Future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Mulder frantically yanked at the zipper of the parka he had deposited Scully into only moments ago.  “Come on,” he shouted.  “Don’t do this.”  Exposing Scully’s chest, he sat back and straightened his arms, one hand over the other, and compressed once, twice, three times and then dropped down to pinch her nose and tilt her chin up. He covered her mouth with his own and breathed.

 

“Breathe, God dammit,” Mulder yelled into Scully’s face.  “Fuck you, breathe!”

 

Exploding glass hit Mulder’s cheek and he winced, bending forward and curving his torso over Scully’s body, shielding her from the debris.  “Breathe,” he husked, like a mantra.  “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.”

 

Mulder straightened and began a renewed round of CPR amidst the pop and hiss of exploding incubators.  Suddenly, he was thrown back as the ship lurched and tilted, landing with a loud crack as the back of his skull hit one of the swinging tanks. He nearly vomited from the pain, instantly dizzy, stars in front of his eyes.  He lolled on the floor, trying to get his bearings, but his vision was blurred and his muscles were slack.  Finally, he was able to get to his hands and knees.

 

“Scully,” he murmured, fighting the urge to vomit as he crawled back to where Scully’s still body lay.  Her mouth was slack, lips an alarming shade of blue. Her eyes were partially open, as though the lids had slid apart in a reflex and then stopped abruptly. Mulder lifted one of her lids with his thumb and it stayed open.  Scully’s pupil did not dilate, nor did the eye move.

 

“Scully,” Mulder moaned.

 

The ship began to shake, vibrating the metal grate under Mulder’s ribs and aggravating the throbbing in his head. Glass rained down over his head. He curled himself over Scully’s body, as much to shield her from the debris as to hold her in his arms. He had failed in his rescue mission and at this point, didn’t see the need to go on.  Couldn’t see how he could save himself if he hadn’t saved Scully. But, if he didn’t try to get up, to get of the ship, to get out of Antarctica, no one would ever know what They had done to her.  He couldn’t let that happen.

 

Groaning in pain, Mulder pushed himself back up onto his hands and knees.  He pressed his face into Scully’s neck for a moment and then kissed her frozen cheek. “Forgive me,” he whispered. Blinking back tears of both pain and sorrow, Mulder shakily got to his feet and stumbled across the trembling floor. His fingers slipped on the lip of the vent above his head as he tried to strengthen his grip. A loud shriek pierced his eardrums, high pitched and unlike anything he’d ever heard.  He winced, barely able to keep his balance as the ship trembled.

 

Somehow, Mulder managed to pull himself up to the vent opening and he slid forward to his hips, legs dangling wildly as he inched forward.  Something caught his foot and yanked hard, almost pulling him back into the hold. He kicked madly, a white hot pain radiating up from his calf as he felt his flesh tear as though sliced with a razor. He screamed and kicked out, propelling himself forward and out of the clutches of whatever had a hold on him. A rush of icy air hit his face and he screwed his eyes shut.  In the next instant, he felt himself being rocketed through the vent by a force that was indescribable. His body knocked into the sides of the vent and he put his arms up to protect his head.  He felt himself hit the ground with a loud, painful thud, and he lost consciousness.


	2. Waking Up

Mulder came to consciousness slowly. He had difficulty moving his head to turn himself away from the bright light hurting his closed eyes. His throat hurt, his ears ached and his head throbbed.  Slowly, he cracked his lids and frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings.  He was definitely in a hospital, but he could not recall how he ended up there or even where he was.

 

“Scully,” he murmured.

 

“You’re awake,” said a voice.

 

Mulder grimaced and opened his eyes a little wider. A squat, matronly nurse breezed past the foot of Mulder’s bed and came to his side.  She reached over his chest and depressed a call button on the railing by his shoulder.

 

“Scully,” Mulder said.

 

“Is that your name?”

 

“Where’s Scully?”

 

“Do you know your name?”

 

“Mulder,” he said, clearing his throat.  “Fox Mulder.”

 

“Fox, the doctor should be here in a minute, you just relax.”

 

“I need you to call Assistant Director Walter Skinner at the FBI.  I need you to tell him I’m here.  Where am I?”

 

“You’re at Georgetown Memorial, Fox. Don’t worry, we’re going to take good care of you.”

 

“Please. Walter Skinner.”

 

Mulder felt like all the energy he had was spent on using his voice for thirty seconds.  He closed his eyes again, unable to keep them open any longer. He would feel better if he could talk to Skinner.

 

The next time Mulder woke, he gradually became aware of the murmur of hushed whispers in the room.  His eyes rolled open and even with blurry vision, he could see the shape of Skinner and a tall woman with short blonde hair in a white coat he presumed was his doctor.

 

“Skinner,” he croaked, trying to lift his head.

 

“Easy, Mr. Mulder,” the doctor said, swiftly moving to Mulder’s side and gently pressing his shoulder back to the bed.

 

“She’s dead,” Mulder said. “Sir, I tried. I tried.”

 

“Who’s dead?” Skinner asked.

 

“Scully.”

 

“What happened to Scully?”

 

Mulder hesitated, glancing at the doctor. Skinner followed Mulder’s gaze and stepped a little closer to the bed.

 

“Could we have a moment alone?” Skinner asked.

 

“I need to get Mr. Mulder in for an MRI now that he’s awake.  I’ll be back in five minutes.”

 

The doctor left the room, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor, reminding Mulder of all the times he had heard Scully approaching the door to the basement.  The sting of tears hit his eyes and nose.

 

“Tell me about Scully,” Skinner said.

 

“I had her.  I found her.  I got the vaccine and it worked, I saw it work.  But, something happened, I don’t know.  She just stopped breathing. I tried.”  Mulder choked on a sob.  “I tried, I tried.”

 

“Easy,” Skinner said, placing a hand on Mulder’s shoulder.   “Relax, son.”

 

“I have to tell her mother. I don’t know how to face her, but I have to tell her.”

 

“Right now I think you need to concentrate on getting well.”

 

“I want to go home.”

 

“I’m sure you do. Can you answer a few more questions for me?”

 

“What more do you need?”

 

“What’s your full name?”

 

Mulder snorted. “John Brown, ask me again I’ll knock you down.”  Off Skinner’s serious expression, Mulder sighed and decided to play along.  “Fox William Mulder.”

 

“What’s your date of birth?”

 

“October 13, 1960.”

 

“What’s Scully’s full name?”

 

“Dana Katherine Scully.”

 

“How do you know her?”

 

Mulder tilted his head and frowned up at Skinner. “Blevins assigned her to the X-Files five years ago.  We’ve been partners under your supervision up until that cigarette smoking son of a bitch destroyed our office last month and those jackasses on the review committee ordered up reassignments.  Why are you doing this?”

 

“What day is it?”

 

“I don’t know how long I’ve been gone. I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember is trying to get my ass off that ship in Antarctica!”

 

Skinner ran a hand over his head and took a deep breath.  “Your best guess. What’s the date?”

 

“Have I…have I been gone long?”

 

“I don’t know. Have you?”

 

“May. May 27th or 28th, maybe.  1998.”

 

Skinner rubbed a hand over his jaw.

 

“Skinner?”

 

“I think we should let the doctors run their tests and we’ll see what happens.”

 

“What aren’t you telling me?”

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

“Skinner!”  Mulder struggled to his elbows, despite the pain in his head and his chest.

 

Skinner turned at the door and inclined his head, but he didn’t look at Mulder.  He waited and Mulder swallowed uncomfortable.

 

“If you’re in touch with Maggie…I mean, Mrs. Scully…please tell her that I’m sorry this happened.”

 

Skinner didn’t respond. He opened the door and let himself out. Moments later, the doctor returned and Mulder was whisked away to his MRI.


	3. X-40253

Walter Skinner sliced open the tape on the file box he had his secretary recall from storage.  The box was dusty and the tape was old and papery, cracking and splitting as he ran his scissors across the seal.  He pulled out the top file and pushed the box to the side of his desk as he sat down to peruse the contents.  An hour later, Skinner called his secretary in to look up a phone number in the FBI directory.  He told her not to put him through, however, he would make the call himself.

 

Skinner hung up his phone and sat back in his chair, removing his glasses as he did so to rub the lenses with the edge of his tie.  He was perplexed and ill at ease.  He hoped he would learn more from the meeting he had just arranged for later that day. He pulled his glasses back on, hooking the flexible temples over his ears before re-opening the file labeled MULDER, FOX W. X-40253.

 

At 3:52 p.m., Skinner’s secretary knocked on his door and announced that his 4 o’clock meeting had arrived.

 

“Thank you, Holly,” Skinner said.  “Please, show her in.”

 

Skinner stood from his desk as a petite redhead walked through the door.  She wore a navy pantsuit and her medium-length hair was clipped back from her face. After transferring a leather briefcase clutched in her right hand to her left, she extended her hand to Skinner and smiled as she approached.

 

“Assistant Director,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dana Scully.”

 

“Have a seat, Agent Scully.”  Skinner gestured to one of the two chairs in front of his desk and sat back in his own chair, smoothing his tie down along his chest. “Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice.”

 

Scully set her briefcase down next to the leg of the chair as she sat and gave Skinner a small smile.  “It’s your good fortune I only have lectures in the morning on Tuesdays.”

 

“I’ll get right to the point, I’m sure your time is valuable.  Early this morning I received a call from Georgetown Medical about a John Doe that appeared at the hospital last night.  This man specifically asked the nurse on duty to call me when he regained consciousness.”

 

“This man is alive?”  Scully gave the assistant director a puzzled look. “I would’ve assumed you were bringing me in to consult on a homicide.  I have a medical background, but my area of expertise is forensic pathology.”

 

“Your area of expertise actually has very little, if anything at all, to do with why I called you.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“The hospital is a bit baffled by this case, and I’ll admit I am as well.  I’m going to present you with what I know thus far.”  Skinner paused and laid his hand over the file on top of his desk, staring at the top page and a Polaroid clipped to the inside corner. “This John Doe has claimed to be one Fox William Mulder, born October 13, 1960.  We have a file here in storage, a cold case, on the unsolved abduction of one Fox William Mulder on November 27, 1973.”

 

Scully was silent, but Skinner saw her neck stretch slightly and her eyes drifted to the file under Skinner’s hand. She nodded once and Skinner continued.

 

“It seems odd to me that a man claiming to be a missing person from 25 years ago would have my name,” he said.

 

“He claims to be this missing person?”

 

“Not at all, actually.  He claims to be a special agent working on a unit at the FBI known as the X-Files.  He also claims that for the past five years, you’ve been his partner on these files.”

 

“Me, Sir?”

 

“Very specifically, you, Agent Scully.”

 

“You’ll see in my file that’s impossible. I’ve been at Quantico for nearly seven years and the head of the forensics department for the past year.”

 

“I realize that.  I don’t believe what this man is claiming to be possible, but I’d like you to take a look at this file I pulled from storage and I’d like you to also take a look at the copy of the medical file I was able to get from Mr. Doe’s doctor this morning.”

 

Scully took the first file that Skinner rotated and slid across the desk towards her.  She sat back in the chair, her brow furrowed as she flipped through the meager contents.  When she closed the folder, Skinner handed her a manila envelope and she removed the copies of the hospital records Skinner had couriered to the office.

 

“There are a few things I’ve left out,” Skinner said as Scully scanned the charts in her hand.

 

“Such as?” she asked, not taking her eyes from the records.

 

“I didn’t press for details or conduct an interview with this man, but he indicated that his last memories are of your death and being on a some sort of ship in Antarctica.”

 

“Antarctica?”  Scully’s right eyebrow rose into a pointed arc. “I was just going to comment on the unusual note that this John Doe was treated for mild frostbite. In May.”

 

“That is unusual.”

 

“I see signs of some pretty significant head trauma, but that wouldn’t necessarily explain the delusion of being an agent of the FBI or how he came to have knowledge of you or I.”

 

“No, it does not,” Skinner agreed.

 

“Who brought him to the hospital?”

 

“Like I said, he appeared there. No one seems to know how. Security footage doesn’t show anything.”  


Scully returned the medical reports to the manila envelope and handed it to Skinner, along with the file.  “I think the first thing would be to establish his identify. If he is, in fact, who he says he is, it could be easily determined by a simple DNA test.”

 

“I agree, and I’m ahead of you. The hospital has sent over a blood sample and a swab to our tech lab.  I put in a rush request on analysis, which should take no time considering we already have a sample on file.”

 

“Sir, did it strike you as a little odd that the investigation into the Mulder boys’ disappearance was concluded as unsolvable in less than two months?  His father was noted as being a ranking employee in the State Department. You’d think a few strings might have been pulled to keep this active as long as possible.”

 

Skinner kept his expression neutral, though he was pleased with her assessment.  “Is there anything else that stood out to you, Agent Scully?”

 

“Other than the fact that the only eyewitness was his eight year old sister who insists her big brother was abducted by aliens while they watched TV and that explanation seems to be good enough to close an investigation?  No, nothing unusual at all.”

 

Skinner lowered his eyes and didn’t hide his smile this time.  “Agent Scully, if you have any free time, I would like to request your assistance on this case. I’d like you to come with me to the hospital to interview this man and try to get more of his story.”

 

“When?”

 

“I’ll work around your schedule.”

 

“I’m free now.”

 

“You’d be willing?”

 

“It’s been awhile since any of my investigations involved the living.  It might make a nice change.”


	4. You and I have never met

Scully waited in the hall outside Fox Mulder’s hospital room.  Skinner thought it best to indulge in Mr. Mulder’s claims to his name to help put him at ease with their questioning.  They also agreed that Skinner would speak to Mr. Mulder first, not to prepare him for Scully’s arrival, but to ask him permission to bring in another agent to question him. If there was no recognition or awareness on his behalf that she was the woman he claimed was his partner, they could present this as evidence of his confusion.

 

The door opened and Skinner motioned Scully in. Scully eased past Skinner into the hospital room.  The man in the hospital bed proclaiming to be Fox Mulder gasped when he saw her.  He struggled to push himself up.  She could see that his eyes had filled with tears and he let out a sob.  Scully glanced at Skinner and moved to the side of Mr. Mulder’s bed.

 

“No!” Mulder shouted, recoiling as Scully approached.

 

Scully froze.

 

“Show me your neck!” Mulder shouted. “Turn around and show me the back of your neck right now!”

 

Scully hesitated, but set her briefcase down next to her feet and turned around.  She lifted the hair away from her shoulders and pulled at the back of her collar to expose her bare neck.  After waiting in silence for a few moments, she dropped her hair and turned back around to face the bed and the man who cowered in fear.

 

“Scully,” Mulder gasped.  He grabbed for her with surprising strength, pulling her towards him and catching her off guard.  His arms went around her and he pressed his face to her neck.

 

Scully hesitantly patted the man on the shoulder and raised her hand when she noticed that Skinner had moved to intervene. She had an urge to protect the man sobbing against her shoulder.  She could feel him trembling against her and despite the pain he must be in given the extent of his injuries, he was clinging to her with surprising strength.

 

“You’re alive,” he said. “You’re alive.”

 

“Yes, I’m alive,” she said.

 

“Scully, what happened?”  Mulder lifted his head and Scully willed herself not to reach up to wipe away the tears streaking his face.  He touched her hair where the layers fell against her cheek. “Your hair…how long has it been? How long have I been gone? How are you alive? You weren’t breathing…”

 

Scully eased herself out of Mulder’s grasp and took his hands, trying not to brush the cracked skin on his knuckles. “Mr. Mulder, my name is Dana Scully, but you and I have never met.”

 

Mulder pursed his lips and his brows twitched. “Now isn’t the time to grow a sense of humor, Scully.”

 

“Mr. Mulder, we have some questions for you,” Skinner said.  “Starting with your name.”

 

“Not you too, Walter. This isn’t funny.”

 

“We want to help you,” Scully said.

 

Mulder pulled his hands out of hers.  “Why are you doing this?”

 

Scully looked at Skinner and Skinner nodded. She opened her briefcase and pulled out the file that Skinner had given her, the one detailing the weak investigation into Fox Mulder’s disappearance at the age of 13.

 

“If you are who you say you are,” Scully said. “To answer your question, you’ve been missing for 25 years.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Fox William Mulder went missing on November 27, 19-“

 

“73?” Mulder finished.

 

“That’s right. 1973.”

 

Mulder fell back onto the bed and clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I want you to stop right now.  You know damn well that was the night Samantha was taken.”

 

“Your sister, Samantha?”

 

“What the hell is going on here?” Mulder barked.

 

“We’re just a little confused,” Skinner interjected. “About who you are. About how you know my name and Agent Scully’s name.  The history you think you have.”

 

“Then that makes three of us.”

 

“Just answer a few questions for us.”

 

“No, you answer a question for me,” Mulder said, looking at Scully.  His voice was tinged with anger.  “You want to talk about sisters, you tell me about Melissa.”

 

Scully didn’t say anything and Mulder pressed further.

 

“Is Melissa alive?” he asked.  “Is she alive?”

 

“How do you know my sister’s name?”

 

“Mr. Mulder, if you’re threatening Agent Scully’s family-“

 

“Is she alive or did Alex Krycek murder her?”

 

“Who’s Alex Krycek?” Scully asked.

 

Mulder blew out a breath and then covered his face with his hands.  “I don’t know what’s happening.”

 

“That’s what we’re here to put together,” Scully said.  “You can trust us.”

 

“You’re the only one I trust,” Mulder whispered, dropping his hands and meeting Scully’s eyes.  His face wrinkled with a pained expression and then he turned his head away from her and screwed his eyes shut.  “What do you want to know?” he asked.

 

“Why don’t you tell us as much as you can remember about yourself,” Skinner said.

 

Mulder opened his eyes and stared at the wall. He was quiet for a long time and then he began talking.  He narrated his life story for nearly twenty minutes, starting with a rather ordinary childhood up until the dark turning point of the abduction of his sister. He told them about his time at Oxford, his recruitment with the FBI, his stint in violent crimes, and his discovery of the X-Files.  He told them about Scully’s assignment to the division under the pretense of assisting with his investigations, how little he trusted her at first, how she was the only one he trusted now.

 

Mulder’s story ended on a spaceship in Antarctica. His eyes grew wet again when he relayed the attempt to revive Scully and he paused more frequently to swallow or find words.  All the while, Mulder’s eyes never left the wall, and then he simply stopped talking and ignored both Skinner and Scully.

 

Scully touched Mulder’s forearm briefly and then motioned to Skinner to follow her into the hall.  She slipped the file back into her briefcase and set the bag down on a chair in the corridor to rub the back of her hand against her forehead.

 

“What are your thoughts?” Skinner asked.

 

“This would be a delusion of grandeur of operatic proportions,” Scully said.  “The information he has…I can’t even begin to fathom where he might have retrieved it.”

 

“I’m almost less concerned with what he knows than with the urgency with which he believes it to be true.”

 

Scully put a hand on her hip, took a few short breaths and licked her lips.  “Sir, what I can say with certainty is that man was abused.  If he is Fox Mulder, the Fox Mulder in that file we have, my guess is that he has been suffering enough mental and physical abuse for the past 25 years to cause a very serious break with reality.”

 

“How did he acquire a reality of that magnitude with so much fact basis?”

 

“Would it be too far fetched to say there’s a possibility that someone implanted false memories into him?  Hypnosis maybe?”

 

“But, who? And why?”

 

Scully played at the corner of her mouth with the tip of her tongue for a moment.  “The investigation into Fox Mulder’s disappearance was assumed to be an abduction. If he was taken in Massachusetts and returned in DC, that would mean his abductors took him across state lines at some point, and kidnapping is a federal offense.”

 

“And?”

 

“Sir, I suggest we take Mr. Mulder into protective custody.  Try to secure a safe house to take him to.  I can have the hospital arrange to release him under my care.  Judging by his charts, his MRI was clear, so I don’t foresee we’d be facing an AMA anyway.”

 

“I didn’t intend to take you away from your position with the department, Agent Scully.”

 

“Yes, but you have,” Scully answered, shaking her head at Skinner.  “And please don’t apologize for it, I’ve been long considering requesting reinstatement to field agent status.”

 

“If this is something you’re serious about, Agent Scully, I could arrange a temporary reassignment under my supervision.”

 

“I am serious about this.”

 

“I was actually hoping you would say that.”

 

Scully picked up her briefcase and clutched the handle with both hands, looking up at Skinner.  “Sir, do you have a feeling about this case?”

 

“What kind of feeling?”

 

“Like we’re the only ones who should be aware of this investigation.”

 

Skinner put a hand at the small of Scully’s back and moved closer to her as he ushered her out of the hospital.


	5. Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation

Mulder had never been one to sit passively and let life happen, but since his encounter with Scully and Skinner in the hospital, he had done just that.  Their interview had depressed him and left him feeling alone and confused. He had hoped they would return and tell him it had all been some elaborate, cruel joke, but that had not happened. They did return, to tell him they believed that he was in fact, Fox Mulder, which he assumed meant the various blood and DNA samples that were taken had proved a positive match. A small victory. When they told him they aimed to transfer him to a safe house, he couldn’t do more than shrug. He didn’t expect to find his apartment waiting for him and he had nowhere else to go.

 

Scully came to pick Mulder up alone. Having no clothes to wear, the hospital gave him pair of scrubs that he changed into while Scully filled out the appropriate paperwork to check him out.  The on-duty nurse gave Scully a tiny manila packet and told her it was Mr. Mulder’s personal effects.

 

“Mr. Mulder?” Scully asked, knocking softly on the hospital door before she entered.  He was dressed and seated on the end of the bed, looking out the window. “We can leave now. The nurse gave me this envelope and said you came in with it.”

 

Mulder opened the envelope Scully gave him and shook the contents out into his palm.  A gold necklace fell into his hand and he swallowed hard.  He tossed the envelope aside and tried to undo the clasp with shaking fingers.

 

“Can I help you?” Scully offered.

 

Mulder nodded.  Scully undid the clasp on the necklace and then brought the ends around Mulder’s neck to lock it into place.  Mulder fingered the tiny gold cross pendant as soon as Scully stepped away.

 

“I have one just like it at home,” Scully said.

 

“I know.  Your mother gave it to your fifteenth birthday.  You never take it off.  I found it in the capsule they took you to the ship with.  They left it there in the pile with your clothes.  I couldn’t leave it behind.”  Mulder gazed out the window, still playing with the pendant with his thumb and index finger.  “Why is yours at home?  Why don’t you wear it?”

 

“Actually it was for Christmas.” Scully felt uncomfortable and she nervously pushed her hair back over her ears, actively avoiding his questions. “Are you ready?”

 

Mulder nodded.  On the car ride to the safe house, neither said much.  Scully pulled into a parking lot behind an apartment building on the outskirts of the city, only he would be the only tenant. The apartments had been abandoned years ago, but the FBI owned the building for training missions.

 

Mulder sat down on the gaudy, uncomfortable couch in his new living room, already missing the comforting familiarity of his leather couch at home.  His ribs throbbed a little when he leaned back to try to get more comfortable, and he sat back up. He picked up the remote on the coffee table and turned on the TV.

 

“Government springing for HBO at least?” Mulder asked, watching Scully silently inspect the modest space.

 

“Probably not,” she answered.  “Let me have a look at your leg.”

 

Mulder gingerly lifted his leg and rested his heel on the coffee table.  Scully sat down next to his foot and timidly pushed his pant leg up over the bandages along his calf. The hesitation and care she took while trying to inspect the gauze made him chuckle and Scully looked up at him.

 

“You’re not usually so gentle,” Mulder said, smiling more to himself than at her.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Mulder sighed and shook his head.  “Forget it.”

 

“We’ll find out who did this to you.”

 

“No, you won’t.”

 

Scully looked down at Mulder’s leg and then pulled the hem of the scrubs back down.  “I think tha-”

 

“Hold on,” Mulder said, dropping his foot to the floor and leaning forward.  He fumbled with the remote control and pressed the volume button higher. “What is this?”

 

Scully pivoted and turned her head to look at the TV. “There was a bombing at the federal building in Dallas this morning.  That’s why Assistant Director Skinner-“

 

“Skinner was there? This morning?”

 

“No, he’s putting together a task force to send down to investigate and couldn’t get away.”

 

“What day is it?”

 

“Thursday.”

 

“What’s the date?”

 

“May 21st.”

 

Mulder stared at the TV screen, watching the repetitive images flash by of firemen running towards the ruins of a building in flames.  Wherever he had woken up, it was a week earlier than where he’d come from.  Time travel was his first thought.  He’d already considered a parallel universe, but time travel hadn’t been on the menu.

 

“Scully, did this version of you get your undergraduate in physics?”

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

“Einstein’s Twin Paradox: A New Interpretation.  Ring a bell?”

 

“That was my senior thesis.”

 

“But, you don’t believe in time travel, do you?”

 

“I believe in the theory of what would happen to be true, but I don’t believe anyone would be capable of enduring it.”

 

“And what would you say if I told you I think not only did I travel back in time, roughly nine days, but that I think what’s happened is that I’m in a parallel universe?”

 

Scully stared at Mulder, unblinking. He was amused at how controlled her expression was when he knew she wanted to tell him he was crazy. She licked her lips and then rubbed them together a few times.

 

“I would say,” she started, after much consideration. “I would say that, you have been through quite a lot these past few days.  Probably most of your life.  And the brain can do some pretty amazing things when it needs to protect itself and fill in the gaps.”

 

“You think I know what I know because I’m filing in gaps?”

 

“I don’t know how you know what you know, but someone put these things in your mind.  Because, what you’re proposing is impossible.”

 

“We’ve seen it before.”

 

“No,” Scully said, rising from her perch on the table.  “We haven’t.”

 

“Okay, listen,” Mulder implored, softly grabbing Scully’s wrist.  “You don’t have to believe me, because you never do anyway, but do me a favor.”

 

“What kind of favor?”

 

“Go back to the FBI and look up a file. Look for the name Lucas Menard, a college student at MIT that was pushed in front of a bus about a year ago. Someone had to investigate it, or someone had to mark it as an X-file, that’s how it came our way in the first place.”

 

“These unsolvable cases you say we investigate?”

 

“I said they were classified as unsolvable, not that they are.  You and I have the highest closing rate in the bureau.”

 

“What does this file have to do with anything?”

 

“The kid that was killed was part of a group researching cryogenics.  Their discovery of a chemical refrigerant will later open the door to time travel. I want to know how far they’ve gotten in this world.”

 

“They can’t succeed at time travel, because it isn’t possible!  You’re not a time traveler.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“Because it is _not_ possible,” Scully said, her voice clipped and her jaw clenched.

 

“But you just said you believe in it theoretically.”

 

“That’s why it’s a theory and not a fact!”

 

“Because science can’t prove it,” Mulder argued. “But it hasn’t _disproven_ it either.”

 

Scully shook her head.  “This is absurd.”

 

“You’re Catholic.  You believe in God, don’t you?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“On faith alone, you believe in God. But, science has never proven God’s existence, just as it hasn’t disproven it either.”

 

“That’s not the same thing.”

 

“Why, because you believe in one but not the other?”

 

Scully crossed her arms, visibly annoyed. Mulder raised his brows at her and waited for an answer. 

 

“It can’t be done,” Scully said.

 

“Scully, I was on a spaceship. Who knows what they’re capable of?”

 

Scully closed her eyes for a few moments and then tossed her hands up. She dug into her briefcase and pulled out a paper and a pen.

 

“I’m not promising anything,” Scully said, sliding the pad of paper and pen over to Mulder.  “Write down the name of that student.  I’ll see what I can find.”

 

Mulder smiled to himself as he scribbled the name for Scully and then gave her back her memo pad.  “Bring me that file,” he said.  “And bring me a list of names of every agent who was in Dallas today, searching the wrong building for a bomb.”

 

Scully’s shoulder’s straightened, startled.  “How did you know that?”

 

“How do you think?”


	6. What if what he says is true?

Scully shoved the door to the basement storage room open with her shoulder.  Her nose wrinkled slightly as the musty smell hit her.  She flipped the switch and looked around at the stacks of boxes from floor to ceiling.  This was the room Mulder claimed was their office in another universe.  It didn’t look anything like an office, it looked like a cold storage locker in a meat processing plant.

 

With a glance at the Post-It stuck to her finger, Scully then peered at the stack of boxes closest to her, trying to determine if there was an order in the chaos.  The file boxes were clearly labeled, but lacked any kind of organization. She held the small slip of paper up next to the writing on one box, moving down to the label on the next to spot a match.  It took almost half an hour for her to find the box she was looking for and she separated it from the stack.  Luckily for her, the box wasn’t nearly as dusty as a lot of the others in the room.

 

Taking a penknife from her pocket, Scully sliced open the tape over the sides of the box and removed the lid. She sorted through the folders to find the one she needed and pulled it out from the rest.  Quickly, she scanned the inside front page to match the case detail and then she shut it again before closing the box and returning it to the stack.

 

Scully was about to leave, file folder tucked securely in her briefcase, but she hesitated and checked her watch. She pulled out a crumbled slip of paper from her pocket and smoothed it out.  Very quickly, she went down the row of boxes in the same way she just had. In half the time it took to find the first file, she found the second and she removed that as well and headed for Skinner’s office.

 

Skinner’s secretary announced Scully’s arrival and Skinner immediately called her in to his office.  Skinner was on the phone, but waved her in and then lifted a finger to indicate he just needed a minute.  Scully sat down and slipped the two files she had just pulled from the basement out of her briefcase.

 

“Dana,” Skinner said, smoothing his tie after hanging up his phone call.  “Did everything go all right with Mr. Mulder?”

 

“Sir, I apologize for coming unannounced. I know the bombing has derailed your schedule.  Yes, Mr. Mulder is at the safe house now.  I’m on my way back there, but I wanted to speak to you first.”

 

“Good. I wanted to speak with you as well. I have some new information.”

 

“Oh?”  Scully tapped her fingers against the folders on her lap.  “I might as well.  I’m not sure.”

 

“After the DNA match was positive, I ran a search on Mr. Mulder’s family.  His mother passed away a few years back of a stroke.  His father is currently residing in Rhode Island, retired from the state department. His sister…his sister has been in and out of mental institutions since her brother’s disappearance. She’s currently in a state run facility in Massachusetts.”

 

Scully looked down at her lap, a wave of sadness coming over her.  “Which opens up the possibility that mental illness runs in the family.”

 

“His sister suffered a traumatic event.”

 

“So did Fox Mulder.”

 

Skinner nodded at the files on Scully’s lap.  “What did you find?”

 

Scully relayed to him what Mulder had said to her at the safe house, including his theory on time travel and parallel universes. She held up the first file and then passed it to Skinner.  “This is a case file on the investigations into the murders of three MIT scientists, the ones Mr. Mulder said were researching time travel.”

 

“And the other?” Skinner asked, glancing over the intake sheet on the file.

 

“When we first talked to Mr. Mulder, he mentioned the abduction of the woman he knows as Dana Scully and her subsequent battle with cancer.  The women he mentioned, the women in Allentown, Pennsylvania, and the group they were a part of, MUFON, there’s a file on them too.”

  
“What kind of file?”

 

“On the surface it appears to be an investigation into the anomaly of a group of 20 plus women all dying of cancer within months of each other.”

 

“Anything conclusive?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Skinner cocked his head and Scully nodded. “These women all shared the same doctor, a doctor Scanlon, who disappeared during the course of the investigation, and the case was classified as unsolvable.”  Scully paused.  “Both of these investigations were conducted by the same Agent.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Jeffrey Spender.”

 

Skinner sat back in his chair and stroked his fingers along his jaw and chin.  “Who’s the AD he submitted the reports to?”

 

Scully hesitated again. “Both these reports were submitted to Section Chief Blevins.”

 

“The man who Mr. Mulder claims assigned you as his partner on the division he calls the x-files and who was murdered after being named a mole at the FBI.”

 

“I can only assume, yes.”

 

Skinner took a deep breath and held it, coming forward in his chair and resting his arms on his desk.  “I’ll inquire into the activities of Agent Spender and I’ll have Holly get you a copy of the list of agents on the Dallas bombing.”

 

“You’re willing to indulge him that?”

 

“Let me ask you at this stage, what do you think of Mr. Mulder?  Do you think he’s a time traveler from another universe?”

 

“Rationally, I would have to say no.”

 

“So what’s the alternative?”

 

“A set up.”

 

Skinner nodded.

 

“But by whom?” she asked. “And for what? Why me, or you?”

 

“If we indulge him long enough, maybe we’ll find the answer.”  Skinner took a moment to buzz Holly and ask her to bring him a copy of the preliminary report on the bombing.   “It looks like you have more on your mind,” he said, turning off his intercom.

 

“I told you my rational side doesn’t believe Mr. Mulder’s story.”

 

“But?”

 

“My gut feeling tells me something different.”

 

Skinner stared at Scully as he gave a small jerk of his chin to the side, squinting just slightly.  “You believe him,” he stated.

 

“I don’t think he’s crazy.  And I think that there’s got to be a reason he knows what he does. He also knew that my senior thesis was on Einstein’s Twin Paradox, a theory related to time travel and relativity.”

 

“Which is all the more reason to consider this as a set-up.”

 

“No, Sir,” Scully argued.  “This is actually all the more reason not to.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“My conclusions in my thesis were not necessarily in support of Einstein’s theories.  Einstein believed it would be physically possible.  I believe in the theory, but find it humanly impossible. Further, if anyone knew me at all, they would know that I am not prone to relying on instinct. I only trust in facts.”

 

“Except you’re telling me that right now, you’re favoring instinct over logic.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know.  But, I do know that if this is a set-up, I wouldn’t be likely to react this way, so why am I even here?”

 

“But, you would want answers. You’d find the facts.”

 

Scully opened her mouth a little to answer and then pursed her lips.  She nodded and Skinner gave her the file back.  Holly came in with the copy Skinner asked for and then left.

 

“Go ahead and give these to Mr. Mulder. I have a briefing later this afternoon on Dallas.  I’ll join you at my first opportunity.”

 

Scully took the report from Skinner and placed all the material in her briefcase.  She stood to see herself out and then stopped.

 

“What if what he says is true?” Scully asked.

 

“About the time travel?”

 

“No, about the conspiracy.  If any of that is true, then what are we being set up for? To assist in it, or to stop it?”

 

Skinner looked down at his desk. He didn’t have an answer. Scully exited the office and hoisted the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder, holding tight to the handle as she made her way down the hall to the elevator.  For the first time, she was conscious of the extraordinary surveillance in the building.


	7. The answers are there, you just have to know where to look

Mulder spread open the files that Scully gave him on the coffee table.  He started with the one on Lucas Menard, disappointed to find that it seemed that the entire team of researchers had been eliminated.  The murders were carried out by an “unidentified elderly male,” with no clear motive, using an unknown biological weapon.

 

“Did you read this?” Mulder asked.

 

“I did,” Scully answered.  She sat next to him on the couch, watching him examine the material.

 

“This is hardly what I’d call an investigation.”

 

Scully scanned Mulder’s face for a few moments. “I agree,” she finally answered. “But, you were right about one thing.”

 

“I never thought I’d live to see the day that Dana Scully said I was right about something.”  Mulder looked over at Scully from his file and almost smiled. He dropped his head immediately. “About what?”

 

“I think there’s something being covered up.”

 

This time when Mulder lifted his head, he held Scully’s gaze.  “Jeffrey Spender signed both of these reports,” he said.

 

“Is that a name that means something to you?”

 

“He’s just a puppet.  In all universes it seems.  Someone’s using him to suppress these cases. I mean, Scully, four people murdered at MIT. Twenty women in Allentown dead within months of each other and they’re not even batting an eyelash. I’m willing to bet if you check his case history, you’ll find more of this.”

 

Scully stood with her hands on her hips and paced by the coffee table a few times.  She finally crossed her arms and stared out the windows.  Mulder saw the frustration in her face and in her posture.

 

“I’m supposed to be here to find out what happened to you, Mr. Mulder,” Scully said.  “And instead I find myself knee-deep in conspiracy theories and stories I might see on Unsolved Mysteries.”

 

“We’re more than knee-deep.  We’ve drowned in them by now.”

 

“Well I haven’t.  I’m used to dealing with things that are a lot more cut and dry.”

 

“No pun intended, Doc?” Mulder asked.

 

Scully ignored him.  “A person dies, their body tells the story.  They were stabbed, they were shot, they were poisoned, a heart attack. I can tell you the time of death, what they ate for dinner, what their heart weighs, if they were a smoker or a drinker.”

 

“The answers are there,” Mulder interrupted. “You just have to know where to look.”

 

“Precisely.”

 

“It’s what you said to me on the day we met.”

 

Scully looked at Mulder and then closed her eyes and shook her head.  “If what you say is true, it doesn’t look like we’ve found any answers at all. Only more questions.”

 

“But we’re close.”  Mulder held up the report he’d been surreptitiously scanning as Scully had been venting.  “And lo and behold, guess whose name is on the list of agents sent to Dallas.”

 

“Jeffrey Spender?”

 

“You see that, Scully.  That’s one answer right there.”

 

Scully sighed and came back around to the other side of the table and sat down on the couch again.  She took the report from Mulder and folded the pages back to hold the packet in one hand. 

 

“He was already in Dallas before the bomb threat was even called in,” Scully said.  “This says he was called in from the field office and not from DC.”

 

“And I bet I can tell you why.”

 

“Why?”

 

“This building was bombed to destroy evidence.”

 

“Evidence of what?”

 

Mulder rubbed his lips together. This version of Scully seemed slightly more open-minded than his own, but only slightly.  And, she hadn’t had years of experience under her belt. He didn’t want to scare her off. He didn’t want her to find him, for lack of a better term, spooky.

 

“Where I came from,” Mulder said. “All this trouble was went to just to make sure the bodies of a firefighter and a little boy were destroyed.”

 

“But, why?”

 

“Because the bodies were infected with an alien virus.”

 

Scully licked her lips as she turned her face away from Mulder.  He looked down and straightened the file material on the table.  The silence that followed was deafening.

 

“Look, Scully, I know this all sounds crazy to you. I know.  You’ve experienced this first hand for five years and you still don’t believe it.  But, you’ve spent the last five years fighting this battle with me.  Sometimes I don’t know why you do it, but I need you. I…”

 

“Your sister has been in a mental institution for nearly 20 years,” Scully interrupted.  She twisted away from Mulder and pulled out another file from her briefcase. “In part because of her insistence that you were abducted by aliens that night in November.”

 

“What?” Mulder blinked at Scully, reluctantly taking the file she held in her hand.

 

“She’s been diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic.”

 

Mulder felt sick.  He opened the file and had to bite his lip to keep from gagging. His eyes filled with tears and he lowered his head, covering his face with one hand.  Finally, he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and read the case file, suppressing the nausea by sheer force of will. His voice was strained when he spoke.

 

“And you think…that it’s genetic,” he said. “That I’m crazy?”

 

“No.  I don’t think that.”

 

“I used to wish it had been me,” Mulder said, softly. “I’ve devoted my life to trying to find her, all the while wishing they had just taken me instead. I always assumed that she would have suffered less than I have.  That everyone would have just went on as before and I’d just be a memory. The son they used to have or the brother that used to be there.  I never expected this.  I don’t know what they did to her when they took her, but this seems worse.”

 

Scully put her hand over Mulder’s for a moment and then suddenly pulled away.  “I don’t think you’re crazy, Mr. Mulder.”

 

“You’re probably the only one in any universe not to think so.”

 

“Like you said, the answers are there. Right now, it’s my job to find them. I just don’t think I’ll find them on another planet.”

 

Mulder lowered his eyes and ran his fingertips over the top page of Samantha’s file. He flipped to the back and paused, frowning. “Scully,” he said, looking up at her, his brow furrowed.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“My father’s alive?”


	8. I'm running out of time

Skinner listened quietly while Mulder explained his theory in full and his plan of action.  Occasionally, he took a glance at Scully, sitting primly at the edge of the couch and staring either at the wall or at Skinner, but never looking at Mulder.  She seemed nervous, but she seemed nervous in a vicarious way.  Mulder spoke with confidence and Scully had the nerves for him.

 

“I don’t know that this is the best idea, Mr. Mulder,” Skinner said.

 

“Sir…it would really help me out if you would just drop the Mister.  I can’t…just call me Mulder.”

 

“Mulder, how do you even know that your father still knows this man you called The Well-Manicured Man?  What would you even do with this vaccine if he had it? And how would you get to Antarctica?”

 

“I did it before, I can do it again.”

 

“Dana,” Skinner asked.  “What do you think?  I take it this isn’t the first you’re hearing of this plan.”

 

“No, Sir.  Mulder came up with this idea shortly after learning that his father is alive and residing in Rhode Island.”

 

Skinner noticed the sidelong glance Scully shot in Mulder’s direction and then she lifted her eyes back to him. Mulder leaned back on the couch and then winced, holding a hand to his ribs as he blew out a frustrated breath. Scully’s jaw tensed.

 

“But, what do you think?” Skinner asked.

 

“I don’t think it’s safe,” she said, directly to Skinner.  “But, I don’t believe Mr….I don’t believe Mulder should be kept from his family. That wouldn’t be right.”

 

Skinner rubbed a knuckle under his lower lip. He had done some checking up on Agent Spender before he left the office and it turned into a rabbit hole of cover-ups full of names and departments.  He couldn’t jump on board with this tale of time travel, but he was inclined to support this idea of conspiracy. However far-reaching it went, Skinner was a patriot and threat to the country was a threat to his values and he wouldn’t let it go ignored.

 

“Dana,” Skinner said, standing. “A word.”

 

Scully stood and followed Skinner to the door and out into the hallway.  He moved her away towards the elevators at the end of the hall by taking her elbow. When they reached the end, he shoved his hands in his pockets and stared down at her.

 

“What did you mean when you said you didn’t think it was safe?” Skinner asked.

 

“It’s eerie, the things that he knows,” Scully answered, speaking very softly, hushed, almost a whisper, her eyes on Skinner’s shoulder.

 

“Generally speaking, he’s not wrong, even if he’s not fully accurate.”

 

Scully tilted her head and lifted her eyes. “Did you find something?”

 

“Spender’s dirty.  But, he seems to be taking orders and those orders trickle up. To who, I haven’t been able to pinpoint.”

 

“That’s essentially what Mulder said. He called him a puppet.”

 

“Does he know whose puppet he is?”

 

“The man he calls The Smoking Man. He says we…he and the Scully he knows…that he’s the man they’ve been trying to take down for years.”

 

“Which makes Fox Mulder their worst enemy.”

 

“I would agree with that, but Sir, that’s not exactly what I meant when I said it wasn’t safe.”

 

“What did you mean?”

 

“I mean, those men, that chain of corruption, they have more to fear from Mulder than he does of them, unless they know of his whereabouts.  I’m talking about the original investigation into Mulder’s disappearance. What was being covered up then? Would it be safe for him to expose it now?”

 

Scully paused and turned her head away from Skinner, looking at the wall.  “I can’t imagine what it’s like to lose a child, but I know that if it was me, I would not have slept until every avenue was exhausted.  The investigation was closed at the beginning of 1974. Barely six weeks. Why?  What did his father do in the state department? Why didn’t he exercise the power of his position to find his son?”

 

“It’s his father you think is a threat to him?”

 

“Maybe not a threat, but if you remember what he told us before, he thinks his sister was taken to serve an agenda. You said it yourself, he’s not wrong, even if he’s not entirely accurate.”

 

“Only now he seems to think his father can help him.”

 

“I know.”  Scully nodded grimly.  “My concern is at what cost?”

 

“What bothers me is that he seems to be one step ahead of everyone here.  Including us.”

 

“Judging by what’s been uncovered in the past few days, this is feeling less like a set-up and more like…like maybe we’re being led down this path by a whistle-blower.”

 

Skinner straightened his spine and rocked back on his heels.  The possibilities were endless.  He pressed his lips together in a stern line, thinking.

 

“If Mulder wishes to see his father,” Skinner said. “Would you be comfortable escorting him to Rhode Island?”

 

“Driving him there?  Flying wouldn’t be an option.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I think he could withstand a seven hour car ride. The wound on his leg bothers me, but it’s not life threatening.”

 

“That wasn’t my question.”

 

Scully nodded briefly as she licked her lips. “I’d be fine.”

 

“I’ll put in a requisition for a car tonight. Holly will call you with the details on the pick up for tomorrow morning.”

 

“All right.”

 

Skinner pulled his right hand out of his pocket and touched Scully’s shoulder briefly, letting his hand hover near her back as they went back down the hall.  Scully opened the door to the apartment and he followed close behind. Mulder was where they left him, on the couch, hunched over slightly with his head down and his hands on his knees. He looked up when they came in and Skinner read the anguish on his face.

 

“I’m running out of time,” Mulder implored. “Believe me or don’t believe me, but I have to get back to where I came from.  I know the answers are on that ship, I know it.  The only hope I have is with my father.”

 

Scully turned her head over her shoulder and looked back at Skinner.  He glanced at her for a moment and then nodded at Mulder.

 

“Agent Scully will drive you to Rhode Island in the morning,” Skinner said.  For a moment, he thought Mulder was going to cry.


	9. Road trip

“I’m not used to this,” Mulder said, wiggling in his seat.  They had only been on the road for a half an hour and it seemed to Scully he was as antsy as a toddler. She half expected the next words out of his mouth to be “are we there yet?”

 

“Not used to what?” Scully asked.

 

“You driving.  Not on long trips anyway.”

 

“We’ve never taken a trip together though.” Scully tried not to be irritated by Mulder’s habit of referring to her as the other woman from his imagination. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but it bothered her.  It made her feel like she was crazy.

 

“I know, Scully, it’s just…”

 

“Why do you call me Scully?  Why don’t you call me Dana?”

 

“I tried that once. I think you found it patronizing.”

 

“Were you being patronizing at the time?”

 

Mulder squirmed in his seat again, bending and shifting his knee to straighten his leg more.  “I don’t think so.  Your dad had just…Scully, is your father alive?”

 

“No, he’s not.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s all right, it’s been a few years now.”

 

“Christmas?”

 

Scully felt her throat tighten slightly. She remembered the phone call from her mother that night.  Christmas dinner hadn’t gone very well.  An argument about her choices had escalated and she’d left without saying goodbye. Irrationally, she had blamed herself for her father’s heart attack even though logically, she knew it was not her fault.

 

“Yes,” she said, making every effort to keep her voice neutral.

 

“I wish I’d gotten to meet him. Though really, I think your mom is the only one in your family that likes me.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, Scully, but Bill Jr.’s a bit of an asshole.”

 

Scully smiled and glanced away from the road at Mulder. “He’s got a bit of a head-of-the-family complex,” she said.  “He’s still mad at me for the divorce.”

 

“What divorce?”

 

“My divorce.”

 

Mulder shifted sideways in his seat and leaned against the door, facing Scully.  “You were married?”

 

“It didn’t last long.”  A bit of color rose up and darkened Scully’s cheeks. She thought he knew. She thought that’s what Mulder was referring to when he pointed out Bill’s attitude.

 

“Jack Willis?” Mulder asked.

 

“God, no!” Scully almost shouted. “How did you even…?” She shook her head and gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.  “His name was Ethan.”

 

“Ethan.  Huh. That must’ve been after we met. I mean…there was no Ethan when I met my Scully.”

 

“September of 1991.  We had our first date.”

 

“March 6, 1992.”  Mulder bounced the knee of his uninjured leg and looked out the window. “How long were you married?”

 

“Less than a year,” Scully said.

 

“What happened?”

 

“An office assistant named Jessica happened.”

 

“I’m sorry, Scully.  Dana.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I know that it must have been hard for you. I know how serious you are about your faith and what a vow means to you.  And to have someone break your trust like that…I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh.”  Scully scraped her teeth over her bottom lip.  Her family hadn’t been as understanding.  She had no choice but to announce her separation on Christmas when she refused to allow Ethan to join her at her parents’ house for dinner. She had only found out about the affair the week before.  Her father was livid. Her mother was disappointed. Bill Jr. was both. Melissa had taken an “I-told-you-so” stance.  Charlie was out of the country.  None of them had sympathized with the enormous struggle it was for her to end her marriage. None of them thought she had tried at all.

 

Scully felt awkwardness creep into the car. She turned the radio on low and searched for a station.  The nation’s top forty was the only sound in the car until they hit Delaware.

 

“Dana?” Mulder asked.  She could tell it didn’t roll easily from his tongue.

 

“Yes?”

 

“The best thing that ever happened to me was when Scully walked into my life.  I didn’t think so initially, but I would be lost without her.  I had just told her she made me a whole person when she was stung by that bee.  I was about to kiss her. I was about to tell her I love her.”

 

Scully swallowed.  “Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I don’t know.  Because if I don’t get the chance to say it to her, I want to say it to you.  Ethan is an idiot. Anyone that could have you and let you get away is an idiot.”

 

Scully kept her eyes on the road, but she blinked rapidly to clear the sudden onset of tears that pooled above her lower lids. “I’m no walk in the park, Mulder.”

 

“Oh, I know.”  Mulder chuckled.  “I didn’t say you were. But, you are so worth it. I know you’re not my Scully, but you’re enough of her for me to know that.”

 

“We still have a long drive ahead of us, Mulder. Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

 

“Ah, Scully,” Mulder murmured with a sigh, crossing his arms and settling back in his seat. “That’s probably what she would say too.”


	10. Catch-22

They hit traffic from an accident in New Jersey, putting them nearly two hours behind schedule.  It was early evening when they arrived in Quonochontaug. Scully had wanted to consult a map, but Mulder told her not to bother.  He knew the way.  He was actually surprised that in this world his father had settled in their old beach house. He was even more surprised after reading the file that Skinner had put together to discover that his parents marriage had lasted well over a decade after their son’s disappearance; one year following Samantha’s permanent institutionalization at the age of 18.

 

“Turn here,” Mulder said, pointing to the grass-covered lane to the right of the road.

 

Scully pulled the wheel and turned the car onto the lane. She went slowly. It was bumpy and unpaved. The house up ahead looked different to Mulder.  The brown shingle siding looked the same and the white trim looked the same, but it looked weathered. Like a high wind had come up and pushed the house over just a little so that it leaned permanently to the west at a very slight angle.  The grass was also much higher than Mulder could ever imagine his father allowing before.

 

“This is it?” Scully asked, throwing the car into park at the end of the path.

 

“Yeah,” Mulder answered, yanking the door open before Scully could tell him to wait.  He limped a little walking around the car.  Both his leg and his ribs ached.  He could see Scully fumbling inside the car.  He knew he surprised her by acting so quickly and she was flustered. He waited for her at the foot of stone path to the front porch.

 

“Mulder,” she said, reaching for his arm and taking his elbow.

 

“I’m okay,” he answered.  “Don’t worry.”  He pulled away from her grip and headed up to the porch.

 

Mulder didn’t hesitate to knock on the door. Scully was still making her way up the short flight of stairs and had just come up behind him when the door opened. Mulder stared at his father for a few moments.  He waited for recognition in his eyes, but all he could feel was Scully’s uneasiness behind him as she shuffled her feet and peered out from the side of his arm.

 

“Dad,” Mulder said.

 

The old man’s eyes narrowed and his brows came forward. His jaw was clenched tightly. “My son is dead,” he said.

 

“Actually, you might be right about that,” Mulder answered.  “But I am Fox Mulder and she could verify that.”  Mulder tipped his head back and to the side at Scully.

 

Scully stepped out from behind Mulder’s arm and opened her ID case for William Mulder.  The old man snorted mirthlessly.

 

“I’m supposed to believe something the FBI tells me is true?” he snorted again.  “What do you want?”

 

“I’d like to come in and tell you why I’m here,” Mulder said.  “And if you need that stiletto hidden in the lamp, go and get it, but I’d prefer to turn around and show you my neck.  It’ll save us time.”

 

All the muscles in William Mulder’s face seemed to twitch at once.  “Who are you?” he demanded.

 

“I’m your son and I need your help.”

 

Mulder could see the effort it took for his father to step back from the door and open it a little further. The distrust was obvious in his posture and his eyes.  Gently, Mulder put his hand on Scully’s back and let her go first.  She moved almost as reluctantly as William Mulder opened the door.

 

“We can talk in the study,” Mulder’s father said.

 

Mulder knew his father kept his gun in the study. “All right,” he agreed, leading Scully down the hall.  He knew the way. The study was through the kitchen. There were two doors next to each other. One led to the basement and the other was the study.  Mulder opened the door to the right and ushered Scully in.  William Mulder had followed behind the both of them suspiciously. Mulder sat down on the leather couch that was nearly identical to the one in his apartment and Scully eased herself down beside him, perched uncomfortably on the edge as though she was ready to run at any moment.  Mulder’s father sat behind his desk and gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles.

 

“I’ll get right into it,” Mulder said. “Twenty-five years ago you were asked to make a choice.  Where I came from, my sister was abducted in front of my eyes while you and mom were next door. I’ve been told, in this world, it was me.”

 

William Mulder remained stoic.

 

“I’m not here so much to talk about the past. I know about the Syndicate. I know you were forced to give up one of us and I know you fought it.  I don’t blame you anymore.  I did, for a long time, but all that is over.  What I need from you now is information.”

 

“What kind of information?”

 

“There’s a spaceship lying in wait in Antarctica. There are people aboard, abductees, that they’re using to incubate alien-human hybrids.  Except what I saw was a little more alien and a lot less human. I need the virus to stop it.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Yeah, you do,” Mulder said, staring into his father’s cold, hard eyes.  “I know you do because whether or not it was me or Samantha that was taken, neither of us would have been if you didn’t need that alien fetus so badly. It was your idea to create the vaccine in the first place.”

 

William Mulder turned his chair away from the desk and looked out the window.  His face was still set into a hard grimace, but Mulder could see that his eyes had grown wet, even if they were still angry.

 

“In my world, you didn’t live long enough for it to be accomplished, but it was done.  I used it once before and I need it now.”

 

“How did you use it?”

 

“I was on board that ship.  I injected it into one of the abductees and it worked.”

 

“Who gave it to you?”

 

Mulder got up from the couch and went to his father’s bookshelf.  He scanned the books from top to bottom and then crouched low to pull out an album from the second shelf.  He flipped through the first pages and then laid it on the desk in front of his father. William Mulder turned his chair back and looked down where Mulder pointed.

 

“I only know this man as The Well-Manicured Man. He gave me the virus and the location of the ship.  That was five days ago where I come from, but it worked.”

 

“Why do you keep saying, ‘where I come from?’”

 

“Because something else happened on that ship that brought me here, back in time, and into an alternate universe. Things might be different here, but they’re also the same.”

 

“That man in the photo is dead. He has been for nearly five years.”

 

“How did he die?”

 

“He was shot.”

 

“He was murdered, you mean.  For what?  For working in secret against the Syndicate?”

 

“A former colleague of ours thought it best if he were eliminated.”

 

Mulder moved his finger across the photograph and pressed it down over the head of the cigarette smoking man in the photo. William Mulder looked up into his son’s eyes.  He stood then, weaving slightly on his feet before he crossed the room to a small table with glass decanters. He poured himself a scotch and drank it in one shot.  He stood at the table for a long moment after he’d gently set the glass back down.

 

Scully had been quiet throughout the whole ordeal, still poised at the edge of the couch, very tense.  She looked up at Mulder, imploring him with her eyes, but her expression was neutral.  He could tell though, he could read her thoughts in any universe.  She was nervous.  She wanted to leave.  She believed him.

 

“You’ve been trying to stop them for over forty years,” Mulder said.  “This is your life’s work.  Are you going to give up?”

 

William Mulder crossed the room again, past his son, to the bookshelves.  He took a book out without even looking at it and handed it to Mulder.  “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask the two of you to leave. I can’t help you.”

 

Scully stood immediately.  William Mulder put his back to the room and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, looking out the window.  Mulder stared at the back of his father’s head until he felt Scully’s hand wrap around his bicep.

  
“Come on, Mulder,” she said.  “We need to go.”

 

Mulder turned reluctantly and let Scully lead him out of his father’s house.  He hung his head slightly, sad and frustrated.  He trudged back to the car, conscious of the pain in his leg but determined not to limp away.  Scully started the car and backed slowly down the lane to the road.  They had made it past the row of mailboxes at the entrance of his father’s neighborhood when he looked down at the book his father gave him. A hardcover edition of Catch-22.

 

Mulder laughed bitterly.  Scully glanced over at him.  He shook his head and opened the book.  His mouth fell open and he sucked in a breath.  The book was hollow.

 

“Scully,” he whispered, turning the open book in her direction to show her the vial of amber liquid and hypodermic needle tucked inside.


	11. Do you want to hear about The Flukeman?

They’d only gotten to New Haven when Mulder asked Scully to stop.  He’d been rubbing his leg, just below his knee, for the latter half of their journey and he’d started up again shortly after they’d left his father’s house.  Scully pulled off the highway at the first Gas, Food, Lodging sign out of town.  The motel she stopped at was well-lit and just off the main road.

 

“Wait,” Mulder said, before she got out of the car. “Do you have enough in cash?”

 

“I should.”

 

“There are people that have killed for less than what I have in my hands right now.  I don’t want to take any chances.”

 

Scully almost asked him if he was sure he didn’t want to just keep going back to DC that night, but his eyes were bloodshot and she wasn’t feeling so chipper herself.  Her back and shoulders hurt from ten hours in the car. Plus, she wanted to look at Mulder’s leg.

 

Scully nodded before she left him in the car and went to get a room.  She only requested one room from the motel clerk, not caring about propriety or regulations. She felt exposed and vulnerable and she didn’t want Mulder out of her sight.  Besides, he was still in protective custody and it was her duty to protect him. Mulder didn’t seem all that surprised when she got back in the car with their receipt and one key. She moved the car to the end of the parking lot in front of the last room on the block

 

“I got a room on the ground floor,” Scully said, glancing at Mulder’s leg.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Scully opened the trunk of the car and gave Mulder the key to the room.  She pulled out an overnight bag and a medical kit she’d methodically put together before she’d left that morning.  Mulder was sitting in the chair by the window when she entered the room, the book cradled on his lap.

 

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Scully said. “I want to see your leg.”

 

“I figured,” Mulder said.  He gave a tired sigh and stood up.

 

Scully busied herself with her medical kit, her back to him.  When she turned around, Mulder was reclining on one of the twin beds.  He’d stripped off his jeans and was in a pair of black boxer briefs. Thankfully, he kept his white t-shirt on so it preserved a little modesty.  His damaged leg was propped up on the bed, while his good leg rested on the floor.

 

“You’re bleeding,” Scully said, sitting down by his foot.  A dime-sized speck of blood stained the crisp bandages Scully had put on him earlier that morning.

 

“Not surprised.”

 

Scully put on a pair of gloves and removed the bandages from Mulder’s leg.  “I think you ripped a stitch,” she said, pressing lightly on the reddened, puckered skin.

 

“Can you fix it?”

 

“Fix a stitch?”

 

“You’ve done it before.  I mean…”

 

“Just how accident prone are you?”

 

Mulder pulled at the collar of his t-shirt and exposed his shoulder. 

 

“That looks like a scar from a bullet wound,” Scully said.

 

“It is.  You did it.  I mean, she did it.”

 

“Well, she did a nice job.”

 

Mulder smiled.  “Yeah, after she put the bullet in.”

 

“She shot you?”  Scully’s right eyebrow rose into a peak.

 

“But, look how pretty it is.”

 

“Is that supposed to be a pep talk?”

 

“Yeah, for me.”  Mulder reached out and squeezed Scully’s shoulder. “Do your worst, Scully…Dana.”

 

“You should be asking me to do my best.” Scully sighed and rummaged through her bag.  She did have a suture kit, but she hadn’t stitched anything other than a dead body since med school, and the dead couldn’t exactly provide feedback on technique.

 

“Your worst is probably a thousand times better than most people’s best on any given day.”

 

Scully was glad that her hair had slipped over her ear and blocked her face.  She felt her cheeks darken.  She wondered if he said such things to his own Scully or touched her as much. It scared her in an ‘I enjoy this too much,’ kind of way.  Even her own husband never made her feel quite so simply loved like that.  Scully was a lucky woman.  His Scully.

 

“I’m going to give you a local anesthetic,” Scully said, pulling out a package with a sterile needle.

 

“No.”  Mulder stopped her, shaking his head.  “I’m not really good with anesthesia.  Just do it.”

 

“Mulder, this needs three, maybe four stitches. That may not sound like a lot, but it’s going to hurt.”

 

“I know.  I’ve been through worse.”

 

It made Scully nervous, thinking about stitching Mulder’s leg.  She carefully cleaned the area with antiseptic and then opened the suture kit.  Her hands shook a little, which didn’t bode well for Mulder.

 

“Do you want to hear about The Flukeman?” Mulder asked.

 

“I don’t know, Mulder, do I?”

 

“We got called in to try to identify a body, or should I say half a body, that was found in the New Jersey sewer system.”

 

Scully paused with the needle and thread poised above Mulder’s leg.  “The sewer?” she asked.

 

Mulder nodded towards his leg and Scully put a hand on his knee, taking a deep breath.

 

“So, when Scully did the autopsy, she found this little baby flukeworm inside the body.”

 

“That’s kind of odd and rather gross.”

 

“You ain’t heard nothin’ yet.” Mulder sucked in a breath as the needle made contact with his skin.  Scully bit her lip and stopped.  “No, don’t. I talk, you sew.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“This other guy in Jersey, a sanitation worker, he claimed he got sucked into the sewers by a giant python and it bit him. Now, I know what you’re thinking…sonofabitch…uh...” Mulder grit his teeth as Scully started sewing.  “You’re thinking pythons don’t bite.”

 

“Almost done,” Scully lied.  She’d completed one stitch and by her estimation, needed three more.

 

“But, the guy had a definite bite mark on his back,” Mulder continued, his voice forced.  “So I went out to visit the sewage treatment plant and that’s when I found him.”

 

“Found what?”

 

“The Flukeman.”

 

“Mulder, you’re pulling my leg.”

 

“No, no.  It was a man, Scully.  At least, it used to be. We think it was the product of Chernobyl. That was your-her theory, anyway.”

 

“Chernobyl turned a man into a flukeworm?”

 

“It caused a mutation.  It mutated a man into a thing that was flukeworm-like.”

 

“I don’t even think I want to know what being flukeworm-like is.”  Scully finished her third stitch.  She glanced up at Mulder. There was sweat on his forehead.

 

“Flukeworm-esque,” he joked.  “The essence of flukeworm.”

 

“The essence of flukeworm…” Scully clipped off the thread from her last stitch and grabbed a piece of gauze to dab at the blood that had seeped out from the cut.

 

“Done?” Mulder asked.

 

“Done.  So what happened to The Flukeman?”

 

“He got away.”

 

“Well that’s disappointing.”

 

“You win some, you lose some. He’s no longer terrorizing the sewers of New Jersey, though.”

 

Scully moved off the bed and went into the bathroom. She threw her gloves away and then wet down a washcloth and wrung out the excess water.  Folding the cloth over several times, she went back out to Mulder and sat down next to his hip.  Tentatively, she pressed the cloth to his forehead and dabbed the sweat away from his brow, careful to avoid the scabbing on the wound near his temple.

 

“You all right?” Scully asked.

 

“I’m okay.”

 

Scully dropped her hands, and her eyes, to her lap with a sigh.  She rubbed her thumb along the edge of the cold, damp cloth.  “I should call Assistant Director Skinner,” she said.

 

“I think he likes you.”

 

Scully looked up at Mulder, incredulous. “You think he likes me?”

 

“Just a feeling I’ve always had.”

 

Scully lowered her eyes again. “What are your plans, Mulder? What are you going to do with this?” She indicated the book on the bedside table with a jerk of her chin.

 

“It took me a day and a half to get to Antarctica last time.  I know I can’t leave tomorrow, but it has to be as soon as possible.”

 

Scully felt a twinge of sadness at this. In such a short time she had grown rather attached to this man and his far-fetched tales.  Except, she had stopped thinking of them as tales.

 

“I’m going to go call Skinner.” Scully pushed off the bed and grabbed the room key from the table.  “I saw a payphone at the corner on the way in.”

 

“Good idea.  Hey, you think they have a Burger King around here or something?”

 

“Oh God,” Scully said, rubbing her forehead. “Dinner.  I didn’t even realize.”

 

“It’s all right.”

 

“I’ll be back.”

 

Scully walked briskly to the pay phone. The sun was starting to set, but it was still warm out.  Paranoia kept her looking over her shoulder and back at the motel.  She didn’t like leaving Mulder, even for a short amount of time, especially now. The encounter with his father had spooked her.  Almost unconsciously, she touched the gun at her hip under her blazer, just to reassure herself it was there.

 

Scully dialed the number Skinner had given her which was a direct line, one that would not be routed through the bureau’s call center. It wasn’t fully secure, but it was as secure as they could get.  Skinner picked up on the third ring.

 

“It’s Dana,” Scully said.  “Is this a bad time?”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

“I apologize for the late hour, we were detained by traffic.”

 

“No apology necessary.  How did the meeting go?”

 

Scully huddled closer to the payphone and put a hand over her free ear.  The traffic at her back made it a little hard to hear.  “The meeting was…I suppose the meeting was successful, Sir.”

 

“Can you be a little more specific?”

 

“It didn’t go well, but we got what we came for.”

 

“But, it didn’t go well?”

 

“Emotionally taxing.”

 

“I see.  I have some updates for you as well.  When we speak again.”

 

“We’re staying overnight.  I’ll be in touch.”

 

“Be careful, Dana.”

 

“I will.  Sir?”

 

“I’m still here.”

 

“Before I let you go, I should tell you that the plan to return to…he still wants to follow through with his plans.”

 

“Let me know when you’re home, Dana.”

 

“I will, Sir.”

 

Scully hung up the phone and rested her head on the back of her hand, still gripping the receiver.  She straightened and surveyed the streets for the closest fast food place.  She would worry about dinner now and everything else later.


	12. We have friends, actually

 

Mulder spent the car ride back to DC deep in contemplation.  He tried to come up with a plausible plan the night before, but the pain in his leg was too distracting and it had made it hard to think.  Aside from that, he had been occupied with trying to calm Scully’s, correction, Dana’s, nerves.

 

So, Mulder leaned back in the passenger seat, tried to find a comfortable position, and went over a plethora of options in his head. Scully stayed quiet in the driver’s seat.  The radio was tuned to a classical station and it helped Mulder to shut his eyes and concentrate.

 

“Where are we?” Mulder asked, pulling the lever on his seat to move the back up a little.  He had not paid any attention to the road ahead of them for hours.

 

“Probably an hour outside of Baltimore. Do you need to stop?”

 

“No.  I think I have a plan.  Well, maybe.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I have friends back home and if there’s one thing I’m sure of, they would be doing the same thing in this world that they do in mine. I’m counting on it, in fact.”

 

“That doesn’t tell me anything.”

 

“I know.  But, it would be difficult to put into words just what it is they do. We need to go to Takoma Park.”

 

“It’s in Maryland.”

 

“I know where it’s at, I just…why Takoma Park?”

 

“I’m asking you to trust me on this. I’ll tell you where to go, we just need to go to Takoma Park and not to the safe house.  You can even call Skinner from there and tell him everything.”

 

Mulder watched Scully lick her lips in contemplation. She was so much like the Scully he first met, but perhaps a little more open and less guarded with her feelings than his Scully ever had been.  The most important similarity though, was that just as his Scully had been following him come hell or high water on blind faith for the last five years, this Scully seemed willing to do the same.  Whatever he did to deserve her trust in any world, he didn’t know, but he was grateful for it.

 

“Dana?”

 

“When we first met, you told me I was the only one you trusted.  But, now you want to bring more people into it.  I just don’t know how to keep you safe with so much exposure.”

 

Mulder closed his eyes and pictured Scully in his hallway, moments before the bee stung her.  He’d only gotten out about half of what he wanted to tell her before he lost momentum.  Now, he may never get to say it.  He kept his eyes closed, speaking to the image of Scully in front of him.

 

“With my life, my heart, my soul, you’re the only one I trust.  But, I do have friends, _we_ have friends, actually, who are on our side.  And I trust them to help.”

 

Scully said nothing.  Mulder stayed quiet the rest of the ride, breathing out an internal sigh of relief when she stayed on the I-95 instead of turning off to the Baltimore-Washington Parkway.  Mulder gave her directions once they reached the city limits. When she stopped the car in front of the warehouse Mulder led them to, she still hadn’t said anything. Her body language conveyed to him that she was upset, possibly on the verge of tears.

 

“It’s all right,” Mulder said, reaching across the car to take her hand in his.  He rubbed her wrist lightly a few times.

 

Suddenly, Scully jerked her hand out of his grasp and got out of the car.  Mulder was startled.  She stood in front of the bumper with her back to him, arms crossed over her chest, waiting. Mulder slowly got out of the car, the copy of Catch-22 tucked under his arm, and stood still for a few moments. She didn’t turn, but when the gravel crunched under his feet and he started walking towards the warehouse, she started walking as well, keeping more than an arms length of distance between them.

 

Mulder looked up at the cameras in the entryway and above the door.  He didn’t even have to check for the small, well-hidden plaque near the buzzer that was engraved simply with “TLG.”  Mulder urged Scully closer into the sight of the cameras by opening his arm and waving slightly, but he didn’t touch her.  She stepped up next to him, angling herself perpendicular to the door and Mulder, leaving room to avoid him in the cramped space.

 

“Frohike!” Mulder said.  “Langley.  Byers. I know you think you don’t know me, but I really need you to open this door and listen to what I have to say.”

 

Mulder paused and cast his eyes around from camera to camera.  He looked down at Scully and she followed his gaze back up to the surveillance equipment.

 

“Your face recognition software isn’t going to find me,” Mulder called out.  “And we don’t have enough time for this.  Show them your badge,” he said to Scully.

 

Scully cocked her head at him and he nodded at her. Reluctantly, she reached back to her pocket and pulled out her ID wallet.  She opened it and looked at Mulder for direction.  Mulder pointed to the camera above the door and she held her badge up.

 

“My name is Fox Mulder,” Mulder said. “She’s Dana Scully and we’re not here to arrest you.  It’s not a trick. I have…I have information on a global conspiracy proving the existence of extra-terrestrials and a government cover-up.  And I need your help.”

 

There was a lull.  Mulder shifted impatiently on his feet.  Scully lowered her arm and put her wallet away, crossing her arms again.  He was about to tell her they could go back to the safe house and regroup.  He would call The Lone Gunmen headquarters and plead his case over the phone, but he heard the turn of a lock, and then another, and then another.

 

“Byers,” Mulder said to the man who opened the door to him.  “Thank you.”


	13. Yahtzee!

Scully leaned against a workbench littered with electronics in The Lone Gunman’s headquarters.  Mulder sat across from her on a worn-out rattan sofa. The gunmen took various positions in the room as Mulder told his tale.  The one Mulder called Byers was on a swivel stool in front of a computer, turned towards Mulder to the left of the couch and to Scully.  The one with the long blonde hair named Langley was seated backwards in a chair made of industrial steel, his arms folded over the back of the seat and leaning close to the right arm of the couch.  The smaller one that kept his eyes more on her than on Mulder, paced between them, on edge.

 

Mulder started by explaining who he was and how he knew them.  He then went into the same story he’d related in the hospital, about his work at the FBI, his sister, his partnership with Scully.  He ended at their present circumstance and then opened the book with the vial inside. Langley was the only one to lean closer for a better look.

 

“Numerous reports of time travel have been floating around for centuries,” Frohike broke the silence by stating.

 

“And they’ve all turned out to be hoaxes,” Byers finished.

 

Langley got up from his chair and swung his leg over it.  He pushed his glasses up a little further on his nose.  “Unless you’re talking about The Philadelphia Experiment,” he countered. “But, they all died. Or went insane.”

 

Scully took a glance at each man in the room. The gunmen looked nonplussed by Mulder’s story, as though they’d heard it before, or heard stranger. Frohike still paced, glancing her way as he shuffled in front of her.  Langley casually strolled over to another computer in the room and started clicking away at his keyboard.  Byers watched Mulder in contemplation.

 

“This syndicate that’s conspiring with the aliens, what’s their end game?” Byers asked.

 

“Every time I think I know,” Mulder answered, “it turns out I’m wrong.  I thought they were aligning themselves with the enemy to save themselves during colonization. But, there are dissenters in the group and my father was one of them.  That’s why we have this virus.  But, the cloning, the hybrids, the never-ending secret projects and experimentations, for some, it’s just about power now.”

 

“Yahtzee!” Langley called.  He looked up from his computer, grinning. Behind him, a printer started whirring. Langley grabbed the paper and took it over to Mulder.  “You know anything about this?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Langley dropped down to the couch beside Mulder, his arms folded triumphantly behind his head.  He pulled the chair he’d been sitting in forward with his foot and then crossed his legs, grinning.

 

“My kung-fu is the best,” Langley said.

 

Curious, Scully took a step forward and Mulder looked up at her, turning the print-out so she could see it.  It was a black and white photo of a group of men in front of an office building. She recognized one of the men and lifted her eyes from the photo.  Mulder nodded at her.

 

“That group is the Syndicate before dissemination,” Mulder said.  “The picture was taken at the Strughold Mining Company in West Virginia, a front for their activities.”

 

Byers stood up and walked over to the couch, taking the print-out from his hands.  “And you know their names?”

 

“Only two by name.  The second to the left is my father.  Next to him is a man named Victor Klemper.”

 

“What exactly is it that you want our help with, Mulder?” Byers asked.

 

“I need you to get me to Antarctica. Last week I had an ally with deep pockets.  Right now I don’t have the same resources, but I can trade in information.”

 

“Mulder,” Scully protested.

 

“Scully, the gunmen have access you couldn’t even dream about.  The FBI has only gotten us so far, and when we want to know more, this is who I turn to. Like it or not, sometimes the government isn’t our friend.  Sometimes, you need to go off the grid.”

 

Scully felt the urge to flee, to leave Mulder behind and forget she’d ever met him or his theories or his hands or his eyes. She crossed her arms again, seething, though she wasn’t quite sure why she was so angry.  She’d hated him in the moment he took her hand in the car because she knew it wasn’t her he was thinking of.  She felt manipulated by his words.  Violated by his touch.  Angry with herself because she wanted to be this other Scully. His Scully.

 

“You’ll need to excuse us for a moment,” Byers said, tipping his head at Langley and Frohike.  “We need to talk.”

 

“Take your time,” Mulder answered, glancing at him briefly before returning his eyes to Scully.  “Just not too much.”

 

When they were alone, Mulder scooted forward on the couch and rested his arms on his knees, slightly hunched. He dropped his head and ran his fingers back through his hair before lifting his head again and meeting her eyes.

 

“Look, Scully, you’ll be here the whole time. I’ll give you names, timelines, everything I can think of.  They’ll record it, you’ll get a copy of the tape, and you can start your own investigations.”

 

“I’ve gone so far past protocol, Mulder, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

 

“I know it feels like that.”  Mulder nodded.  “But, you haven’t.  These men need to be stopped.  I believe we can do it.”

 

Scully sighed.  Once again worn down by Mulder’s convictions.  He made things sound so easy.  He leaned forward and tentatively reached for her, stretched his arms out and then his fingertips touched her tense forearms.  He flexed his fingers and wrapped them over her arms, pulling her towards the couch so she was standing in front of him and he was looking up at her.

 

“Scully…”

 

Scully closed her eyes.  It was painful to hear him call her that. She stepped back from him and dropped her arms to her sides just as the gunmen filed back into the room.

 

“We’ll help you,” Byers said. “You have a deal.”


	14. Don't waste any time on me

Mulder tried to suppress a yawn, but it caught him anyway.  He had been speaking for nearly three hours straight.  Frohike had to change the tapes twice.  Every so often he tried to catch Scully’s eye, who was sitting next to Byers making notes on a notepad, but she didn’t look at him.

 

Langley was at the computer where he’d parked himself since Byers told him the deal was on.  Frohike had put together the recording equipment while Byers had taken Scully into another room to get her an untraceable line to call Skinner. Once Mulder had started talking, Frohike bounced back and forth between helping Langley and researching some of the information Mulder had been giving them.

 

“We can stop and continue this tomorrow,” Byers said.

 

Mulder shook his head even as he rubbed at his eyes. He was tired, but he needed to finish.

 

“This Alex Krycek character sure is dirty,” Frohike said from across the room.

 

“Mulder, I may have found something for you,” Langley said.

 

“Found what?” Mulder rasped.

 

“There’s a research expedition heading out to eastern Antarctica from South Africa the day after tomorrow. It should be a snap to fake some credentials and get you and Scully inside.”

 

“Scully’s not going,” Mulder said.

 

“You’re going alone?” Byers asked.

 

“Why aren’t you bringing your little chickadee?” Frohike added.

 

“Agent Scully not my little chickadee, Melvin,” Mulder answered, looking across the table at Scully who hadn’t raised her head.   “I don’t think she’d have me. In any universe.”

 

Scully finally glanced up and then quickly looked away.

 

“Do you want me to try to get you in?” Langley asked.

 

“Yeah, do it.”

 

Scully put her pen down and pushed her chair away from the table.  “Do you have a restroom?” she asked, quietly.

 

“Sure.”  Byers leaned back and pointed to a door past Langley’s computer station. “Just go through there and to the left.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

As soon as Scully was out of the room, Frohike leaned past his work-station and raised his eyebrows at Mulder. “Lovers quarrel?”

 

“Leave it alone, Melvin.”  Mulder looked over at the door Scully went through. “Will the research expedition get me access to a snow-cat?”

 

“I’ll see what I can find.  You’re going to have to make a decision muy rapido, though. If we don’t get you on a flight to South Africa tonight you’ll probably miss it.”

 

“There’s a flight to Cape Town leaving Dulles at 4:45 a.m.” Frohike said.

 

“Do it.  If it’s my only chance, I have to take it.”

 

Mulder excused himself and got up from the table. He went into the hallway that led to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.  Only a few moments later, Scully came out of the restroom, startled to see him there.

 

“Is everything all right?” Mulder asked.

 

“I’m fine,” Scully said.

 

“Scully…”

 

“Don’t!” Scully cried softly, shutting her eyes. “Please, don’t call me that.”

 

Mulder stepped up close to her and put his hands on her face.  Scully bit her lip and pressed her eyes closed tighter.  “Dana,” he said.  “Tell me what’s wrong. I don’t want to leave like this.”

 

“Then don’t,” Scully whispered. “Don’t leave.”

 

“I have to.”

 

Tears escaped from Scully’s eyes, as tightly as they were shut.  Mulder brushed them away from her cheeks with his thumbs before putting his arms around her and holding her head to his chest.

 

“I’m afraid for you,” she said. “I’m afraid something will happen.”

 

“Dana…I have to go.”

 

Scully pulled her head up and looked up at Mulder. After staring into his eyes for a few moments, her gaze drifted down and she touched the gold chain around his neck, curling her finger around it and pulling it from his shirt so that the pendant was free.  She placed her fingers over the cross and looked back up at him.

 

“What if she’s dead?” Scully asked. “Even if you can make it back there, what happens if you’re too late?”

 

“That’s a risk I have to take. If I can’t save her, then she deserves more justice than she already does.  Her family deserves it too.  Her mother deserves it.  I’m even willing to throw Bill Jr. in there.”

 

Scully’s chin quivered and Mulder pulled her back into his arms.  She clutched at his shoulders, her fingers slipping down his back as she tried to hold on. Mulder stroked her hair, taken back in time for a moment to another moment his Scully had clung to him like that after the attack by Donnie Pfaster.  Her hair had been longer then too.

 

“I want you to promise me that you won’t come looking for me when I’m gone,” Mulder said.

 

“What?”

 

“You have everything you need in front of you now, if it’s what you want.  Don’t waste any time on me.”

 

“Mulder!” Scully hissed, jerking away from him almost violently.  Her eyes were wet. Her cheeks were wet. She looked so much like she did in that hallway right before the bee stung her.  He wanted to kiss her now, just like he wanted to kiss her then, but he wanted his Scully.

 

Mulder sighed a little, too tired to use enough willpower.  He bent his head and touched his lips to her cheek, lingering there for a few moments longer than he should have.  He wrapped his arms around her again, squeezing her tight against his chest and then he let her go.

 

When he went back out into the main room and shut the door behind him, he paused by Langley’s computer.  “Don’t tell her about the plane tickets,” he said, quietly. “Don’t tell her when I’m leaving.”

 

The Lone Gunmen looked at each other. Byers was the only one to nod once and return to his work.  Scully came out of the hall a few minutes later.  It looked like she had washed her face.  The hair around her temples was wet.

 

“I think we need to stay here tonight, Dana,” Mulder said.  “I’ve crashed out many a time on that couch.  It’s comfier than it looks.”

 

“I’m fine,” Scully answered, even as her eyelids drooped.

 

“Just relax, then.  These guys have work to do and I’m going to write up a bit more information.  My throat hurts.”

 

“How’s your leg?” Scully asked.

 

“It’s fine.  Maybe you’d rather just go home?”

 

Scully shook her head.  Wearily, she sat down on the couch and sank into the soft cushions. Mulder watched her surreptitiously, predicting that she’d fall asleep in less than ten minutes. He was spot on, but he waited another ten to guide her into laying down and then to cover her with the afghan on the back of the couch, knowing she was less likely to wake up then.

 

“Can you get me everything I need within the hour?” he asked Langley, eying the clock on the wall.

 

“I can have it in half an hour,” Langley boasted.

 

Mulder nodded.  When the time came, and his fake papers were all tucked away in a backpack Frohike had dug up for him, he sat down gingerly by Scully’s hip, praying she wouldn’t wake.  He ran his fingers down her hair a few times and leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek.

 

“Take care of her,” Mulder said. “Please.  Help her when she needs it.  She won’t have anyone but you.”

 

“You’re really sure about this, man?” Langley asked.

 

“I’m sure.”  Mulder stood.

 

“There’s about fifteen thousand dollars in the account for this ATM card,” Byers said, handing Mulder a debit card. “The money is siphoned from illegal accounts in the Caymans, so don’t worry about where it comes from. Use whatever you need to buy supplies in South Africa.”

 

“Memorize your ID,” Langley added. “Know it forwards and backwards. The customs agents over there can be harsh.”

 

“I’ll bring the van out,” Frohike said. “I’m going to drop you downtown and you’ll take a cab to the airport from there.”

 

“Got it,” Mulder said.  “I knew I could count on you.”


	15. We're making omelets

Scully roused slowly.  The pillow she was using felt unfamiliar. The heavy blanket over her body was unfamiliar.  The sounds and smells as her senses awakened, were all unfamiliar.  She opened her eyes a fraction and squinted into the dim light. Realization hitting, she sighed softly and sat up.

 

“Good morning, Agent Scully.”

 

Scully jumped and turned around, catching the afghan before it slipped off her shoulders and clutching it over her chest. She shivered.

 

“Where’s Mulder?” she asked the small, stocky man who had greeted her so nicely.  “I’m sorry, good morning, Frohike.”

 

“Mulder left,” Frohike answered, pulling an envelope out of his pocket.  “He said to give you this.”

 

Scully clutched the afghan with one hand and took the envelope from Frohike.  In the back of her mind, she knew this would happen.  She opened the envelope with her name on it and took out the folded paper.

 

“Would you like breakfast?” Frohike asked. “We’re making omelets.”

 

“I’m alright, thank you.”

 

“Coffee?”

 

Scully lifted her nose and sniffed the air a little as she unfolded her paper.  “Coffee would be nice, thank you.”

 

Frohike left and Scully let the afghan fall from her shoulders to read her letter.

 

Dana-

If I know you, and I think I know you pretty well, you’ll be chasing my ass down to the South Pole, with or without Skinner’s approval, faster than I can say E.T. phone home. I know, I know, my Scully hates it when I use humor to deflect in times of difficulty, but she knows it’s my coping mechanism, so please don’t hold it against me.

I’ll make this a little easier for you since I’m not about to let you take any unnecessary risks on my account. Langley has the coordinates to where I’m headed.  The caveat is, you won’t get them, and you won’t know the name I’m traveling under, until you get to South Africa.  I also left the guys with a sample of the vaccine.  I don’t know if it will be enough, but they have a vial for you that you can take back to your lab.

You can depend on the gunmen. I leave them as a gift to you. You’ll need them more than you might know.  You might think they’re crazier than I am and more paranoid than I am, if that’s even possible, but their hearts are always in the right places and they’re good at what they do.

You’re going to need a partner if you want to open the X-files.  Find someone that will listen to you and respect you, even if they disagree with you and infuriate you.  Find someone whose loyalty has no limitations or conditions.  Find someone who will watch your back at the expense of their own reputation.  Find someone you trust more than yourself.  This is the kind of partner I’ve been lucky enough to have for the past five years. I only hope I’ve reciprocated half of what she’s been for me.  Even that wouldn’t be enough.

I hope you understand why it needed to be this way.  All I really wanted was a head-start on you.  Long enough to keep you out of whatever happens on that spaceship.  If all you find out there is a giant hole in the ground, just stop. Don’t look any further than that. If I fail at this, and this is the new world I live in, I promise you I’ll do the same.  I’ll come back to you, and I won’t look any further. But I have to try because I owe her that much.  And I know she would do the same for me.

Good luck, Dana. I hope for the sake of our worlds, that both of us can win.  I’ve always had faith in the cause.  I hope you can find it as well.

-Mulder

 

Scully folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.  She stood and headed in the direction that Frohike had disappeared to, finding all three of the gunmen at a small table in a makeshift kitchen.  Byers politely rose from his seat and offered it to Scully. She sat down timidly, feeling a little awkward amongst these three men who were going to be her new friends.

 

“Coffee’s almost ready,” Frohike said.

 

“What time is it?” Scully asked.

 

“Almost seven,” Byers answered. “We have everything Mulder left for you. You probably want to leave us soon.”

 

“I’ll have the coffee first,” Scully answered, even though she was anxious to get the ball rolling on going after Mulder. “And I want you to tell me everything you’ve found so far with the information Mulder gave you.”


	16. Antarctica

Mulder pulled his stiff body up from his seat to deplane in Cape Town.  His muscles protested from being cramped for so long.  His leg throbbed at the site of his gash and the stitches itched.  He had spent a good portion of the flight trying to keep from scratching them out.

 

Customs was a breeze.  His passport was stamped and his backpack was searched. He produced the fake medical papers the gunmen had supplied him with, declaring the needle and vial in his kit to be insulin for diabetes.  No questions were asked and Mulder found himself in a cab to the next stop on his journey within an hour of touching down at the airport.

 

With only hours to go before meeting up with the expedition team, he got what he could in way of snow gear.  He’d been in far greater of a rush the last time to get to Antarctica and he’d felt underprepared.  This time, he did a little better.

 

Mulder stuck to himself and stayed pretty quiet amongst the research team.  The team was made up of no more than ten people of different backgrounds and areas of expertise. When anyone asked what he did, he told them he was a photographer.  They boarded a private plane for their flight and Mulder either slept or feigned sleep for the five-hour journey. 

 

They arrived in the wee hours of the morning, Antarctic time.  They were picked up by members of a crew of year-round researchers that were there to take them to the bungalows they were assigned to.  Most of the team that had been anxious and excited about the journey, had at this point, become sleepy and jet-lagged.  Mulder was grateful that it seemed that everyone would rather rest initially than explore. It gave him the perfect opportunity to slip away in one of the 4x4’s they had access to.  One of the few men that Mulder had spoken to, a chemist from London, asked where he was headed.  Mulder simply told him he was setting out to photograph the penguins, and that was that.

 

By Mulder’s estimation, it would only take about fifteen minutes to reach the site of the space ship. He drove slowly when he neared the ridge he remembered climbing when his snow-cat gave out.  Parking at the base, he grabbed his backpack and zipped up his coat and headed out to climb the rocky hill.


	17. I want to investigate the disappearance of Fox Mulder

Scully stopped at home before heading to Skinner’s office.  She hastily packed a bag, finding the warmest clothes she owned and cursing herself for never having been a skier.  It would’ve made things a lot easier.  She did have a few things for when it got bitter in DC, but she didn’t know if it would be enough for Antarctica.  There was no question in her mind that she would be headed there today, with or without approval.

 

As she finished zipping her bag, the jewelry box on her dresser caught her eye.  She went to it, opened it, and took out the top tray.  Three small, flat boxes lined the bottom of the case and she took one out and opened the top.  The gold cross was in the second of the three boxes and she studied it in her hand. She tested the clasp and though it didn’t open easily, it still worked.  She put it around her neck and tucked the pendant under her shirt.

 

Holly was typing on her computer when Scully entered Skinner’s waiting room.  She asked the secretary to announce her arrival as politely as she could, even though what she really wanted was just to burst through his door and save the time. Skinner opened the door himself after Holly buzzed him and quickly ushered Scully inside.

 

“Agent Scully,” Skinner said, holding up a finger at her and then putting it over his mouth.  “So good to see you.”

 

“You as well,” Scully answered.

 

Skinner took Scully’s elbow and brought her over to his desk, chatting lightly on the way.  “I’ve wanted to thank you for your assistance with our missing persons case, but this Dallas situation has been monopolizing my time.”

 

“I understand.”

 

Skinner pointed to a fountain pen that was sitting in the middle of his blotter, the top removed so that the pen lay in fragments. Scully leaned closer and could see some sort of electronic wiring welded to the ink cartridge. She raised her brows at Skinner who nodded in return.

 

“You must have a lot of things to attend to this morning,” Skinner said.  “I’ll walk you out.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Skinner took Scully out through his side entrance and walked with her through the corridor to the elevators.  He pressed the down button and took them to the basement storage room.

 

“I can’t guarantee the security of this room,” Skinner said.  “But, I found that bug this morning and it can’t be coincidence.”

 

“Sir, Mulder’s gone.”

 

“Gone where?”

 

“Antarctica.”

 

Skinner inhaled deeply through his nose and squared his jaw.

 

“I came by to speak with you on a few matters,” Scully said.  “First, before he left, Mulder recorded as much information as he could about the conspiracy. He names names and has dates and implicates a lot of people in some high ranking positions.”

 

“This doesn’t surprise me.”

 

Scully pulled a crudely clipped packet of printouts from her briefcase and gave them to Skinner.  “There’s a rough transcription of his recording in here, unedited since it was only done through a software program early this morning. There’s also some initial investigation into a few of the people Mulder names, one of them being Section Chief Blevins.”

 

“I had my own report done on Blevins, which I’m pretty sure is the reason I found a microphone in my fountain pen this morning.”

 

“And it’s why I’m hoping you won’t deny me when I make a request of you.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I would like for you to formally reassign me from forensics to your department.  I would like to open up a division on these case files that are stamped as unsolvable. I want you to put me in charge of the X-files.”

 

“I don’t know what kind of strings I can pull at this point with the Deputy Director, but I can try.”

 

“As my first assignment, I want to investigate the disappearance of Fox Mulder, starting with his last known whereabouts.”

 

“You want me to officially sanction a trip to Antarctica?”

 

“If you don’t, I’ll go anyway.”

 

Skinner pulled his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose for a few moments.  “I can’t officially sign off on this,” he said.  “Because I don’t think we can afford a paper trail right now. But, I will help you. And I’m coming with you.”


	18. Geronimo

The last time Mulder had found the spaceship it had been by accident.  He was hoping for a little more of that same good fortune as he made his way across the frozen wasteland towards the small white huts in the distance.  He stepped carefully, testing the ground beneath him to see if it would give way, hoping to find the same pothole in the earth that led him to the ships piping like the last time.  If not, he would have to find a way to get into the little huts without anyone taking notice.  He could only assume there was an entrance into the ship amongst them.

 

Luck was not on Mulder’s side this time. He made it all the way to the huts, edging his way carefully towards the outbuildings by using the snow-cats parked in front for cover.  He played a game of eenie meenie miney mo to try to pick a hut to explore first and settled on the smallest of the four, which happened to be the closest. But, tighter quarters meant less people. He hoped.

 

Just before Mulder reached the hut, the door started to open, hindered by a drift of snow that had built up in front of the entrance.  Heart pounding, Mulder flattened himself against the side of the hut and slid around the side of the building, moving slowly and quietly.  He heard voices and he peeked out from around the side.

 

“Sonofabitch,” Mulder said to himself.

 

Making their way to the snow-cats was The Cigarette Smoking Man and none other than Alex Krycek.  Mulder couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Krycek looked angry and the smoking man looked smug.  They paused by the cluster of vehicles and the old man reached into his coat pocket and pulled a cigarette out, putting it between his lips. Krycek ripped it out and threw it on the ground before the old man could light it.

 

Whatever argument that may have taken place, their voices weren’t raised enough for Mulder to make it out. Eventually, they got into one of the snow-cats and took off, Kyrcek at the wheel.  Mulder waited until the sound of the engine faded and the snow-cat was just a dot in the distance to slide around from the back of the hut. Cautiously, he entered the hut and then thanked his lucky stars that it was blissfully empty.

 

Mulder was torn.  There was equipment in the room, computers that had been left to monitor and calculate on their own.  Nothing on the screens meant anything to him. He wished he could find something meaningful to take with him, but he just didn’t have enough time to look. There was a hatch in the middle of the room with a domed, glass cover above it.  Mulder could see the hook ladder through the glass, leading down into darkness.  He lifted the cover back on his hinges.

 

“Geronimo,” Mulder said, beginning his descent down the ladder.

 

After five minutes of climbing, Mulder was getting tired.  His leg ached and his shoulders hurt.  He couldn’t see into the void below, but he knew there was no way he could go back up now. Finally, about twenty feet later, he hit ground.  Still holding on to the ladder, he pulled a penlight out of his pocket and shined it over his surroundings.  He discovered he was on a platform and up ahead was a small entrance he had to crouch to get into. The top rungs of another ladder poked up from a hold in the ground and he looked down into it. Only about ten feet down was a catwalk.

 

Mulder swung his legs over the side of the hole and grabbed onto the ladder.  When he had descended far enough, he dropped down onto a catwalk that seemed to move in a circle around the circumference of the interior of the ship, if Mulder’s estimations were correct.  He moved his flashlight around the hull, up and down, trying to spot something familiar. If his memory was accurate, and he was fairly confident it was, he was one level above the hall of pods that he had found Scully in.

 

Mulder leaned over the rail of the catwalk and searched for an opening below him.  He could make out two streams of low light, one to his right and one on the opposite end of the catwalk.  Guesstimating the position, Mulder stopped when he thought he reached the first opening. He got down on his stomach and bent his neck over the edge of the catwalk to check the wall.  Still about five feet away, he got up and moved closer.

 

Checking the straps on his backpack to make sure they were secure and tight, Mulder pushed himself off the ledge of the catwalk until he was dangling off the side.  Using the grating as handholds, he monkey-grabbed his way to the other side of the catwalk where the opening was below.  Rocking his body into a swing he propelled himself forward and down into the lower level.

 

Mulder had to take a moment to steady himself, leaning against the metal walls of the ship to do so.  The exertion made his ribs burn and the ache in his leg was constant.  He was so close, and he just kept repeating it to himself as a mantra.  So close, so close.

 

Pushing off the wall, Mulder went on. He reached an impasse, with one corridor heading left and one corridor heading right.  He took the one to the right, which led to another impasse and this time he went left.  The walls curved and then ahead of him, Mulder saw the green glow of the incubation tanks.

 

Mulder walked the length of the hanging pods, trying to determine the best way to decide who got the vaccine. He decided to check for stages of incubation.  The further along, the less he felt his chances were.  The more human he encountered, that’s the one he would pick.

 

Wiping condensation away from the front of each tank, Mulder began to check the faces inside.  Some were in a hideous state of malformation, almost as though the human shell had begun to melt into the alien inside it.  The face of a fully developed alien gave him pause and made him shudder.  He moved away from it quickly and crossed to the other side of the pods, wanting to get as far from it as possible.  The next tank he went to, he gasped and rubbed hard against the glass front, not believing his eyes.

 

“Oh my God,” Mulder murmured.


	19. Dana Scully

Scully left the FBI building with the intention of meeting Skinner at the airport within the next hour.  She had a passport and fake ID in her bag that the gunmen had made up for her.  Skinner had asked if she’d needed one and though the question may have shocked her a few days ago, it didn’t now.

 

Before heading to the airport, Scully went across the street to the payphone inside the McDonalds to call the gunmen, as they’d planned that morning.  They were working on getting her a way to Antarctica as they’d done for Mulder and she wanted to check in and let them know it would be two passengers instead of one. They still hadn’t found anything and promised to keep working while she was en route to Cape Town.

 

On the flight to South Africa, Skinner and Scully went over the material they’d dug up.  They had a decent amount of incriminating evidence for some people, but it was like breadcrumbs on a trail to something bigger.  They would need a lot more than what they had to make any accusations.

 

Scully fell asleep mid-flight and when she woke, Skinner told her they had just announced the descent into Cape Town. The first thing Scully did when they disembarked was call the gunmen.

 

“Don’t leave the airport,” Byers told her. “There’s a private charter leaving in half an hour.  They’re not going to the same spot as Mulder did, but it’s only about fifteen miles from the research camp.”

 

Scully and Skinner hustled through the airport to the gate that Byers gave them.  There were only six other people on the flight, all part of an adventure club that had done everything from climbing Mount Everest to base jumping in South America together. Skinner dealt in half-truths as a cover story when the rowdy bunch asked why they needed to get to Antarctica in a hurry for, he told them he and Scully were bounty hunters tracking a computer hacker wanted by the federal government.

 

There was excitement in the air when they got off the plane, not just amongst the group they’d traveled with, but with the crew that came to take them to their camp.  They were abuzz with news that a research team had invaded their camp earlier that day when seismic activity was recorded and they’d felt an earthquake. Skinner and Scully looked at each other with silent suspicions.

 

When they reached the base camp, Skinner questioned a few of the researchers on Mulder’s whereabouts, asking for him under the assumed identity the gunmen had given him.  They finally found a man who said Mulder had gone out to photograph the penguins not too long before the earthquake and hadn’t returned.

 

Without a word, Skinner took possession of one of the 4x4s in the camp.  He drove straight to the research camp with the directions they’d been given, and from there they followed a set of tracks leading out across the frozen tundra. All Scully could see was white. Blinding, unending white.

 

Finally, they came upon an abandoned 4x4 just below a ridge.  “There are footprints here,” Skinner said.  “Blown over a little bit, but they go up to that ridge.”

 

Silently, Scully and Skinner climbed the ridge and stopped at the top, taking in the deep depression on the other side that was at least three football fields wide and unmistakably, almost perfectly oval. The depth of the crater was unfathomable.

 

“There!” Scully called, pointing across the expanse to a dark speck in the snow.  She nearly started to make her way down the cliff, but Skinner stopped her.

 

“We need to take the truck,” he said. “We can go west past the ridge and around to the other side. 

 

Scully all but ran to the car, with Skinner moving swiftly beside her.  He pointed the truck west and they hauled out past the ridge and then he took a wide turn around the perimeter of the crater, keeping his distance from it should the earth cave in any more than it already had.

 

The truck slid on the ice slightly when Skinner braked in front of the crumbled body on the other side of the crater. Scully was out of the truck almost before it even stopped, slipping and sliding in her haste, falling to her knees next to Mulder’s body.

 

“Mulder!” she called, rolling him slightly and puling his upper body into her lap.  She pulled a glove off and slid her fingers down his neck to his carotid artery. “He’s alive.”

 

“We need to get him in the truck,” Skinner said.

 

“Mulder!” she called again.

 

Mulder’s eyes rolled open and focused on hers for a scant moment before sliding closed again.  “Dana Scully,” he murmured.

 

“It’s me, Mulder.  We’re going to get you out of here.”

 

Skinner bent and to Scully’s surprise, lifted Mulder from the ground without any effort at all.  She ran ahead of him and opened the back doors so that Skinner could slide Mulder onto the back seats and then she climbed in after him to assess his injuries.  Skinner put the truck in gear and swung around to head back to the camp.

 

“Mulder can you hear me?”  Scully asked.

 

“Dana Scully,” Mulder answered.

 

“I’m here, Mulder.  I’m here.”

 

Scully pulled the ski hat off Mulder’s head and paused. She looked up and Skinner met her eyes in the rear-view mirror.  She shook her head and unzipped his jacket.  He was shirtless under the winter coat and Scully felt her heart begin to race. She scrambled back past Mulder’s legs and slid the left leg of his ski pants up to the knee.

 

“Oh my God,” she said.


	20. Here goes nothin'

Mulder pulled back from the tank in stunned silence. The face looking out from the pod was his own, dark and shadowed in the murky alien amniotic fluid within, but definitely his own.   This was the Mulder from this world.  The one that had been taken instead of Samantha.

 

Before Mulder could go any further, he needed to find a way out of the ship.  He knew he would use the pipe above the row of pods behind him, but he had to account for his doppleganger and how he would make it out into his own world without following Mulder back to his.  He jogged back down the corridor and took the opposite hall this time to see where it led.

 

At first, Mulder thought he had encountered a dead end. The second corridor led to nowhere, but as he shined his flashlight around, a glint caught his eye and he moved closer to the wall.  There were small iron bars embedded into the wall, jutting out just enough to form a ladder up the wall towards the catwalk above.  Mulder tested it for his weight and to see how easy of a climb it would be. He made it up to the catwalk in no time and then climbed back down.  Too bad he hadn’t known about that shortcut before.

 

Back at the row of incubators, Mulder removed his backpack and took out the extra set of ski pants, boots, socks and jacket he had packed.  Next came the needle and vaccine.  He wanted everything at the ready when he broke open the tank to move as swiftly as possible.

 

“Here we go,” Mulder said to himself, lugging what looked like a CO2 tank over to the pods and hoisting it up to shatter the glass. He began pounding on the tank, cracking it little by little with each smack to the surface. The glass began to fall away and the fluid leaked out all over the ground.

 

In minutes, Mulder had exposed the other man’s body from the waist up and he set the tank down to catch his breath. He started pulling at the rest of the glass and then kicked it away so it opened up even more. The sticky, heavy fluid inside the tank gushed out over his boots and oozed through the grated floor.

 

Mulder pulled the cap off the hypodermic needle with his teeth and shoved it into the vial, sucking the entire contents into the chamber. Without hesitation, he shoved the needle into the other Mulder’s shoulder and depressed the plunger. After withdrawing the needle, he threw it aside, bracing himself for the disruption to the ship’s biostructure that came with introducing the vaccine into the system.  The ship began to shake even before the umbilical cord in the other Mulder’s mouth began to shrivel and die.

 

Roughly, Mulder yanked at the umbilical cord in his doppleganger’s mouth, pulling the length up and out as fast as he could. The man sputtered and coughed and wheezed as he took a breath.

 

“We don’t have much time,” Mulder told the man. “We need to get you out of here.”

 

The other Mulder blinked, no sense of comprehension registering on his face.  Mulder began to pull him from the tank and was surprised when the man assisted in his own rescue.  He had to help him put on the clothes and boots, but he was functional, unlike how Scully had been when he’d pulled her out.

 

“Come on,” Mulder said, urging the other Mulder forward and into the corridor.

 

Around them, the ship began to rock and creak. The tanks swayed lightly, but Mulder knew it was going to get worse, and fast.  He brought the other Mulder down to the ladder and then shined his flashlight up to the other side of the catwalk where he’d come in from.

 

“You need to get to there,” Mulder said, directing his beam to the vicinity of the ladder leading to the exit in the hut. “Take the flashlight.”

 

The other Mulder accepted the flashlight and looked at it as though it was a foreign object.  He moved it in his hand, testing its weight.  Mulder covered the man’s hand and pointed up again at the ladder above the catwalk.

 

“Up the ladder,” Mulder said. “You get out and you run. Run away from the huts. Just keep running. You find Dana Scully. She’s coming for you. Dana Scully.”

 

“Dana Scully,” the other Mulder said.

 

“Dana Scully,” Mulder repeated. “Go.”

 

“Dana Scully,” the other Mulder said again, clumsily moving up the ladder on the wall with Mulder’s encouragement.

 

Mulder waited long enough to see the other Mulder lumber along the catwalk towards the exit.  Behind him, he heard popping.  No more time to spare, he ran back to the hall of pods. Broken glass was everywhere on the floor.  Steam hissed from one of the tanks.  The ship lurched suddenly and the tanks smashed into each other as they swayed, cracking even more and sending a flood of water cascading across the floor.

 

Mulder shakily made his way to the pipe above one of the damaged tanks.  Inside, the eyes of an alien, black and angry, peered back at him.  The alien struggled violently, clawing at the walls of the tank, throwing its body against it as it screamed.  Mulder jumped for the edge of the pipe and used all his strength to pull himself up and into it.

 

“Here goes nothin’,” Mulder said, crawling forward on his elbows.

 

The pipe began to vibrate roughly, pitching Mulder forward and making it hard to stay up on his arms.  He was rolled to one side and then back to another with the ships unstable movements.  Mulder reached the end of the pipe and nothing happened.  He stood up and looked up at a ceiling of ice.  All of a sudden an avalanche of snow came down upon him and he put his arms up to protect his head.  At the same time, his feet slid out from underneath his body and he felt like he was tumbling.

 

Mulder landed face-down with a thud, breathing hard.  Everything hurt. The adrenaline flew from his body, leaving him boneless, too weak to open his eyes.  He sank into darkness, exhausted.


	21. It's not him

“It’s not him!” Scully shouted.

 

“What?” Skinner asked.

 

“Sir, it’s not him!”

 

“Well, who is it?”

 

“It’s…it’s Mulder,” Scully said, baffled. “But, it’s not him. It can’t be.”

 

“Dana, who is it?” Skinner barked.

 

“He doesn’t have the head wound,” Scully said, running her hand through Mulder’s hair and pushing it back from his forehead. She moved her hands over his chest and ribs, shaking her head. “No bruises on his ribs.  His leg has never been stitched.  I don’t understand this!”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Am I sure that this man is in perfect condition?” Scully asked, frowning at Skinner in the mirror.

 

“No, are you sure it isn’t Mulder?”

 

“Dana Scully,” Mulder mumbled.

 

Scully brought her attention back to the man beneath her.  She put one hand on his face and leaned closer to look into his eyes.  He stared back at her, lids droopy, but pupils dilated normally.

 

“Cold,” Mulder whispered.

 

“We’re going to get you somewhere warm,” Scully said. “Can you tell me your name? Do you know who you are?”

 

“Dana Scully,” Mulder answered.

 

Scully pulled the hat back onto Mulder’s head and zipped the jacket up.  She rubbed his hands with her own and looked over the seat out the window as they drove. She couldn’t make sense of anything. This man was Mulder, but it couldn’t be Mulder.  What happened out at that crater?  What did the earthquake mean?  She wasn’t used to having such illogical problems thrown at her like this.

 

They made it back to the research camp in record time. Mulder had fallen asleep and didn’t stir as Skinner carried him out of the car and into one of the cabins. Skinner went about arranging one of the bunks for him and stripping him of his wet clothes and zipping him into a sleeping bag while Scully started up one of the gas heaters and lit a cook stove to boil water.  She searched the cupboards for some broth or tea to heat.

 

“What are you thinking?” Skinner asked her, coming up next to her as she dipped a tea bag into a mug of steaming water.

 

“I have no idea how to explain this,” Scully answered, truthfully.  “No idea at all.”

 

“You spent more time with him than I did, but that looks like him.”

 

“It does.”  Scully nodded.  “But, absent of any wounds whatsoever.  I had to re-stitch his leg myself barely two days ago.”

 

“Dana Scully?”

 

Skinner and Scully turned and Scully moved over to the bunk Mulder had been tucked into.  He was staring up at the wooden slats above his head, but turned his eyes to hers when she came into view.

 

“I made you some tea,” Scully said. “It’s a little too hot yet, but we’ll give it a minute.”

 

“Dana Scully?”

 

“You’re right.  I’m Dana Scully.  This is Walter Skinner.  What’s your name? What do we call you?”

 

“He told me to look for you,” Mulder said.

 

Scully was almost startled by a complete sentence from this man’s mouth.  She had feared some sort of brain damage from how monosyllabic and single-focused he was. She looked up at Skinner and then back at Mulder.

 

“Who told you?” Scully asked.

 

“He did.”

 

“Did this man have a name?  The one who told you?”

 

“He looked like me.”

 

“Do you know your name, son?” Skinner asked. “Do you know who you are?”

 

“Fox Mulder,” Mulder blurted, after a few moments of silence.  “My name is Fox Mulder.”


	22. Cold

Mulder’s eyes rolled open and then snapped shut from the intensity of the white surrounding him.  He was cold, but he felt a warm weight against his back and across his chest.

 

“Scully,” he mumbled.

 

“Mulder,” was the whispered response, just above his ear.

 

Mulder frowned and forced his eyes to open. He tilted his head back and found himself looking up at Scully’s face.  Her eyes were closed and her cheek was pressed close to his temple. Cold winds blew her hair across her forehead and she shivered, holding him tighter as he reclined in her lap.

 

“Scully!” Mulder said again, reaching up and touching her face.

 

“Cold,” Scully answered.

 

“We have to get out of here.”

 

Confused, but energized, Mulder got to his feet and pulled Scully up with him.  She huddled close, shivering.  He took a moment to assess the surroundings, by now a familiar site.  The mountain ridge was up ahead.  Behind him was a massive crater in the ice.

 

“Come on,” Mulder said, keeping his arm around Scully to keep her close.  “We just have to make it over that ridge.”

 

“I can’t,” Scully answered.  Her breath came in short gasps with each clumsy step she took.

 

“Yeah, you can.  I got you.”

 

With a great deal of cheerleading and physical support from Mulder, they both made it over the ridge to the other side. It was the snow-cat that waited in the distance, not the 4x4.  Pausing at the base of the mountain, Mulder looked down at Scully, touching her cheek. She weakly lifted her eyes to his, breathing way too hard for the amount of exertion it took to slide down the ridge.

 

“It’s you,” Mulder said.

 

Scully’s brows came together in question, but he shook his head.  They didn’t have time for this.  Mulder was almost sure he was going to have to carry Scully across the ice to the snow-cat, but she managed to make it to the rig and get into the cab before she slumped down and closed her eyes.

 

Before he’d left the rig, Mulder had found a gas can in back of the seat and re-filled the tank in case he needed to make a quick getaway.  He prayed the engine would start and nothing else was wrong with the machine. Luck was on his side. The snow-cat started right up and Mulder swung it around, contemplating the direction he’d take. He didn’t want to use up all his luck, but he figured that if the research site was up and running in the other world, it would be in this one as well.  It was the closest destination he could think of.

 

“Stay with me, Scully,” Mulder said, taking one hand off the wheel to squeeze Scully’s shoulder.  She coughed in response and he was grateful to know she was still breathing. “We’re almost there.”

 

“Where?” Scully wheezed.  “Where are we?”

 

“Antarctica.”

 

Scully coughed again.  “That’s definitely what it feels like.”

 

“Just hang on, all right?  Just hang on.”

 

Mulder put the pedal to the floor and pushed the machine to go full speed, which was barely 25 mph.  Gradually, the tiny grey bungalows in the distance got closer and closer.  There was no activity surrounding them, however, and Mulder feared they were abandoned and unsupplied.  He’d have to take the chance of stopping though to see what he could find.

 

Against his better judgment, Mulder left Scully alone in the cab of the snow-cat to run over and check out the inside of one of the cabins.  It looked recently inhabited, like the occupant had left in a hurry.  The gas heater in the corner of the room was still warm, even though it had been disconnected.  Mulder started it back up and ran outside to get Scully.

 

“Come on, Scully.  Open your eyes.”

 

Scully was slow to respond, but her eyes slid open and it looked like she had to struggle to focus.  Mulder slid his arms under her and pulled her out of the cab, carrying her to the bungalow.  He sat her up on the lower bunk of one of the bunk beds against the wall, closest to the heater.  Scully shivered almost violently.  Her shaking was like a constant tremor.

 

“We have to get out of these clothes,” Scully panted, taking short, gasping breaths between words.

 

“Agent Scully, are you coming on to me?” Mulder replied, trying to lighten the mood.  He was already rushing around the small bungalow, multitasking. He’d found an additional heater and turned that on.  He’d lit a small gas stove and put on a kettle of water to boil.

 

“You wish,” Scully answered through gritted teeth.

 

Mulder moved over to the middle bunk where three, rolled up, down sleeping bags were lined up on top.  He pushed them off to the floor and then leaned down to look through the open space between the bunks at Scully.

 

“Hey, g-woman, you’re missing it. It’s raining sleeping bags.”

 

“Guess you’ll get lucky,” she answered, trying unsuccessfully to pull the zipper down on her coat. Her fingers were red and numb, totally useless.

 

Mulder snatched up one of the bags and undid the bindings to snap it open.  He unzipped it partway and then spread it on the bed behind Scully.  Scully had managed to get her soaking wet socks off and she turned to look over her shoulder.

 

“We’re not going to fit in one,” she said. “You need to zip two together.”

 

“I was kidding.”

 

“I’m not.”  Scully’s teeth were chattering uncontrollably.

 

Mulder almost smacked his head on the top of the bunk in shock as he stood up a little too quickly.  Scully went back to slowly undressing as best as she could and he worked on connecting two of the bags into one.  The teakettle began to whistle before he finished and he abandoned the bags to turn off the stove.  He found mugs but no tea bags or coffee.  Not even hot chocolate.  The hot water he poured out into the mugs was carried over and placed on the small table between two of the bunks.

 

Mulder finished fastening the sleeping bags and dragged it up to the bed.  Scully had grown even more sluggish and Mulder moved silently around to the other side to help. She didn’t say a word of protest when Mulder took over and removed her jacket and snow pants. He kept his eyes up on her face the whole time, worried at the speckles of broken capillaries on Scully’s cheeks and the sensitive skin under her eyes.  He finally helped her, shivering violently, into the sleeping bag and then began work on divesting himself of his own sodden gear.

 

Mulder didn’t realize just how cold either one of them were until he slid into the sleeping bag and zipped them inside. He tried to keep a respectable distance between them, but Scully rolled into him immediately and dropped her arm over his waist, pressing herself against him as tight as she could. He hissed.  It was like lying against a block of ice.

 

The return of his circulation made the tips of his fingers and toes begin to throb.  His leg, which he hadn’t thought about for quite awhile, ached painfully, as did his head.  He closed his eyes and unthinkingly brought his arm over Scully and hugged her tight, sighing. The weight of survival lifted and brought of flood of emotions from him and he couldn’t stop the tears that suddenly poured down his face.

 

“Mulder?” Scully whispered.

 

Mulder sucked in a sob and bit his bottom lip. His chest jerked as his lungs fought for air and then he let it go.  The last thing he remembered of this world was leaving Scully’s dead body behind on the spaceship and now he was lying beside her, holding her very much living body in his arms.  The realization and relief of it was overwhelming.

 

“Scully,” he croaked, bending to press his face against her neck and shoulder.  “I’ve missed you.”

 

“Missed me?”

 

“I’m so tired, Scully.”

 

“I know.  Me too.”

 

Mulder sighed and pulled Scully even closer, if it was possible.  She slid her hand up from the middle of his back to curl over his shoulder slightly. The cold had made him dull and lethargic, but the warmth now spreading over him made him drowsy. The sound of Scully’s soft, wet breaths in his ear were like a lullaby, sending him to sleep.


	23. We've uncovered a dangerous can of worms

Skinner and Scully huddled by the door outside of the bungalow in hushed conversation.  Inside, Mulder slept peacefully.  Scully had made him drink the tea she made and checked his vital signs as best she could with no equipment.  She was absolutely confident he was not injured in any way and there were no signs of frostbite.

 

“None of this makes any sense,” Skinner said. “That man in there can’t be Fox Mulder.”  


“I think we should start with running another DNA test when we get back to DC,” Scully said.  “Although, I’m pretty sure what the results are going to tell us.”

 

Skinner squinted into the distance and then down at Scully.  “We’ve uncovered a dangerous can of worms,” he said.

 

“Yes.”  Scully nodded in agreement.

 

“Dana, we could stop here and no one would have to know.  We could bring him back to DC and keep him in protective custody until we can relocate him somewhere safe.”

 

Scully gazed up at Skinner in silence. His face was stoic, unreadable. She swallowed and shook her head, keeping her eyes locked with his.

 

“Do you think you can walk away now? Knowing what you know?”

 

Skinner gave a brief shake of his head and she nodded in return.  “Neither can I,” she said. She licked her lips and stared out at the bright, vast terrain.  “What if he was right?”

 

“He’s been right.”

 

“About the men on this Earth. I’m talking about the ones that aren’t.”

 

“Are you saying you believe it was aliens that did this?”

 

“Something made that crater out there. Something brought this Mulder here, free of head wounds and bullet scars.”  Scully looked up at Skinner, piercing him with her gaze. “I don’t know how to explain it, Sir, but what I do know is, the FBI does not currently have an investigative unit qualified to pursue such matters.”

 

Skinner nodded and they both turned their stares away from each other and to the sound of engines rumbling in the distance.


	24. I've always thought you were crazy, Mulder

Mulder woke, warm and cozy.  He still had a firm hold on Scully in his arms, who was sleeping peacefully against his chest.  Gently, he rolled to his back, taking her with him.  She stirred with his movement and he petted her shoulder to keep her asleep, unsuccessfully.

 

“Mulder,” she murmured.  Her voice was hoarse and she coughed.

 

“Hey,” he answered, maneuvering to reach for one of the mugs of water on the table.  It was tepid, but at least it wasn’t cold.

 

Mulder propped Scully’s head up a little and held the mug down towards her.  She took a long drink and then moved her head away.  She licked her cracked lips and coughed again.  Mulder took his own drink and then put the mug back on the table and settled down again.

 

Scully shifted and her thigh brushed against him intimately, causing him to become acutely aware of just how much of their flesh was in contact.  His body was too worn out to respond.  For that, he was grateful, but he wasn’t too tired to mask his embarrassment with humor.

 

“Before you pass judgment,” he said. “Please keep in mind we are in Antarctica and it’s possible I was hypothermic.”

 

“You can relax, Mulder.  My judgment was passed years ago.”

 

Mulder gave a nervous chuckle and unconsciously gave Scully a squeeze, so happy to hear her verbally spar with him again.

 

“You might have to fill in some memory gaps though,” she said.  “How did we wind up here, for one?”

 

“We didn’t…I mean…despite what this looks like, we…uh…” he stammered, terrified that she might think something had happened without her consent.  “I was just…you were…”

 

“I’m talking about here,” Scully said, laying her hand against Mulder’s chest to allay his fears and calm him down. “To Antarctica. I don’t know how we got from Washington DC to Antarctica.”

 

“What is it that you last remember?”

 

“I remember…” Scully paused and closed her eyes. She frowned, deep in thought. “I remember the review board. Transfer effective immediately. Salt Lake City. I…”

 

“You came to tell me.”

 

“Yes, I came over to tell you, but I didn’t want to say good-bye.  I sat in my car for a long time.  I almost turned around and went back home.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

Scully tipped her face up and settled her head a little higher on Mulder’s shoulder to look up at him.  Concern flashed in her eyes as she reached up and put her palm to Mulder’s forehead, tracing the edge of scabbing near his temple.

 

“What happened?” Scully asked. “This looks days old.”

 

“You’ll never believe me.”

 

“That’s never stopped you.”

 

Mulder took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then began with the bee.  He told her everything he could think of.  He told her about getting shot at, being unable to revive her in the space ship, waking up in a world that he didn’t know, with a Scully and a Skinner that didn’t know him. He told her about letting the other Scully stitch up his leg and about seeing his father, about his sister being alive in that world.  He ended with his surprise at finding himself in the space ship and his surprise at coming to consciousness outside of it and finding her there.

 

Scully was quiet through Mulder’s story, but he could see the questions forming in her mind.  He spoke quickly so he could get through what he needed and then he waited for Scully to fire off her arguments about how scientifically impossible everything he just said was.  He waited, but she didn’t say a word, just laid quietly with her head on his shoulder and her hand resting on his chest.  Mulder lifted his head and looked down at her.

 

“Well?” he asked.  “I’m waiting.”

 

“Waiting for what?”

 

“For you to tell me how crazy you think I am right now.”

 

“I’ve always thought you were crazy, Mulder.”

 

“You don’t have anything to say?”

 

“I have a lot of things to say,” she answered, reaching up again and lightly brushing his scalp by his wound.

 

“You think I hit my head and imagined it?”

 

“Your head trauma doesn’t explain how we came to be in the middle of nowhere, in Antarctica, so I guess this is one explanation that I’ll just have to accept.  For now.”

 

“I just told you we were aboard an alien space craft and I crossed through time and universes and you’re okay with that?”

 

“But, you also told me I was abducted again, exposed to an alien virus, closed into a pod and had my body used as an incubator, and was injected with a vaccine of unknown origins or content. Am I okay?  I don’t know how to answer that Mulder.”

 

“I’m sorry, Scully.”

 

“Yeah, I know you are.”

 

Mulder sighed and tried to think of something he could do or say to help.  He could hear the sound of engines rumbling in the distance.  Scully picked her head up and her hand moved to clutch Mulder’s bicep.

 

“What is that?” she asked.

 

“I think it’s the research team coming back.”

 

Mulder made a move to open the sleeping bag, but Scully stopped him, pulling him back down.  He gave her a questioning look and she squeezed his arm.

 

“Promise me something, Mulder.”

 

“What?”

 

“When we get back, we’ll finish what we started in your hallway. We won’t let each other pretend it didn’t happen.”

 

Mulder nodded.  “I promise.”


	25. Epilogue 1

Epilogue 1:

 

Scully wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. She was nearly finished moving the last stack of boxes when there was a knock on the door.  Thinking it might be the desk delivery, she unlocked and opened the door quickly, surprised to see a dark-haired woman in the hall.

 

“Agent Scully?” the woman asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m Monica Reyes.”  Reyes extended her hand to Scully in greeting. “I was just upstairs with AD Skinner and he was briefing me on the opening in your division.”

 

“The forensics lab?”

 

“No, on the X-files.”

 

“Oh.”  Scully hesitated, but then stepped back from the door, admitting Agent Reyes into the basement office she was putting together.  “I’d offer you a seat, but I’m still moving in.”

 

“That’s all right.”

 

“May I ask how you heard about the position?”

 

“Skinner told me.  I worked a case under his supervision a few months ago and he thought this might be up my alley.”

 

“Up your alley?”

 

Monica smiled as she spoke, which both unnerved Scully and put her at ease at the same time, an odd combination to be sure, but Scully found her to be pleasant, if not a little odd.

 

“I specialize in ritualistic crime,” Reyes said. “The case I worked for Skinner involved vampires.”

 

“I’m sorry, vampires?”

 

“Well, they weren’t really vampires, of course, but suspicions were raised by the mysterious exsanguination of cattle.”

 

“Exsanguination…”

 

“Blood-letting.”

 

“Yes,” Scully said, clearing her throat a little. “So someone killed a cow and one thing led to another?”

 

“Six dead cows, actually.  But the loss of blood appeared to be from bite marks. That’s why I was called in.”

 

“Bite marks.  From a vampire.”

 

“Allegedly.”

 

“Yes, allegedly.  But, it wasn’t a vampire?”

 

“Not in this case.  Now I know what you’re thinking, Chupacabra right?”

 

“Chupa-what?”

 

“The Mexican goat sucker of legends. But, by definition, Chupacabra kills goats, not cows.”

 

Scully blinked at Reyes, confused and amused. “So it wasn’t a Chupacabra and it wasn’t a vampire?”

 

“It was just a kid who had seen one too many Bela Lugosi films, unfortunately.”

 

“I see.  And Skinner called you because?”

 

“Because I recently put in for a transfer from the New York field office where I’m currently at.  And I’d rather transfer to DC than New Orleans, which is where my current offer is.  He said you needed someone with an open mind to work with.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

A phone rang in the room and Scully put up a finger to let Reyes know to give her a second.  The office line was plugged in behind a stack of boxes, but the phone itself was on the floor.  Scully crouched and answered her extension.

 

“Scully,” she said.

 

“Dana, it’s Skinner.”

 

“Yes, Sir?”

 

“I just sent an agent down to talk with you. Her name is Monica Reyes.”

 

“She’s here.”

 

“I think she might be what you’re looking for.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Speak to her for a bit.  She has quite a background.”

 

“I will, Sir.  Thank you.”

 

Scully hung up the phone and stood, brushing dust off her hands and pants.  Monica looked around the office walls, still smiling.  She gazed up at the skylight where muted sunlight filtered in.

 

“Are you sure this is something you want to do?” Scully asked.

 

“Agent Scully, when I said it wasn’t vampires, I didn’t mean that it couldn’t have been.  I just meant that in this case, it wasn’t.  But, I would never discount the possibility.  I also believe that every question has an answer.  It looks like there are a lot of files down here just asking.”

 

Scully would’ve hired her on the spot if she had any authority to do so.  She smiled at Reyes and then picked up her briefcase to leave the office.

 

“I’ll call Skinner and tell him he should extend the offer on your transfer request.  I wish I could stay longer, but I have a friend that’s been in the hospital and we’re bringing him home today.”

 

“I’m really looking forward to working with you, Agent Scully.”

 

“Call me Dana, please,” Scully said, walking Monica out of the office and to the elevators.  An odd question came to mind and she punched the call button, glancing at Reyes out of the corner of her eye.  “Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” she asked.

 

“Doesn’t everyone?” Reyes answered.


	26. Epilogue 2

Epilogue 2:

 

Mulder sat in front of the reflecting pond with a newspaper spread between his hands, annoyed with the content, annoyed that he couldn’t be at the review panel helping Scully battle her reassignment to Salt Lake City, annoyed that he was back to square one in this fight, annoyed that he was so annoyed on such a nice day.  He saw Scully coming towards him, her stride long and purposeful.

 

Sighing, Mulder folded the newspaper and handed it to her without looking when she approached.  “There’s an interesting work of fiction on page 24,” he said. “Mysteriously, our names have been omitted.”

 

Scully took the paper from him, but didn’t bother looking at it.

 

“They’re burying this thing, Scully. They’re just going to dig a new hole and cover it up.”

 

“I told OPR everything I know. What I experienced, the virus, how it’s spread by the bees through pollen in transgenic crops.”

 

“You’re wasting your time, Scully,” he said, shaking his head and getting up off the bench.  He needed to move, to leave. “They’ll never believe you. Not unless your story can be programmed, catalogued or easily referenced.”

 

“Well then we’ll go over their heads,” she answered, hurrying after him, not quite able to keep up with his longer stride.

 

“No,” Mulder stopped, turning towards her and shaking his head.  “How many times have we been here before, Scully?  Right here, so close to the truth.  And now with what we’ve seen and what we know, to be right back at the beginning with nothing.”

 

“This is different, Mulder.”

 

“No it isn’t!” he hissed.  “You were right to want to quit.  You’re right to want to leave me.  You should get as far away from me as you can. I’m not going to watch you die, Scully, because of some hollow personal cause of mine.  Go be a doctor.  Go be a doctor while you still can.”

 

“I can’t,” Scully said, quietly but emphatically. “I won’t.  Mulder, I’ll be a doctor, but my work is here with you now. Look, that virus that I was exposed to, whatever it is, it has a cure.  You held it in your hand.  How many other lives can we save?”

 

Mulder wasn’t so sure he cared about anyone else anymore.  A thousand people couldn’t replace Scully.  Not even another Scully in another world could replace his Scully.  Her safety meant everything to him.

 

“Look,” Scully said, catching his hand and squeezing it. “If I quit now, they win.”

 

Mulder stared at her.  She gave him an imploring look, acknowledging his words in the hall.  He gave a little nod at her, scanning her face.  He wanted to kiss her.  More than anything in the world, he wanted to take her face in his hands and press his lips to hers and forget about cover-ups and review boards and alien viruses. But, he didn’t.

 

“You made me a promise,” Scully said, softly.

 

He nodded again.

 

“Take me home, Mulder.” 

 

Mulder gave her hand a squeeze and they both turned away from each other at the same time.  He let go of her and she still reached for him, taking the back of his arm in her hand.  He slowed his pace a little so she could walk easily beside him.

 

“Your place or mine?” Mulder asked.

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “Just as long as there aren’t any bees.”

 

THE END


End file.
